Partners In Time
by avorialair
Summary: A Tenth Doctor and Rose story. The smallest action can have the largest consequence. When the Doctor becomes involved in a conspiracy, a chain of events is put into motion where sacrifice is his only option. WIP
1. Touching Normality

**

* * *

Partners In Time**

A Tenth Doctor and Rose story

* * *

**Short Summary**_: The smallest action can have the largest consequence. When the Doctor becomes involved in a conspiracy, a chain of events is put into motion where sacrifice is his only option. _

**Long Summary**_: The smallest action can have the largest consequence. When the Doctor becomes involved in a conspiracy, a chain of events is put into motion where sacrifice is his only option. While struggling to work out the tricks and devices laid ahead of him before Rose becomes another on the death toll, he not only learns just how catastrophic little mistakes can be, but also the price he's willing to pay for the sake of meagre existence._

**Doctor Who Original Characters**_: The Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Captain Jack Harkness, Jackie Tyler, Peter Tyler, Mickey Smith. Watch out for the Ninth Doctor too, and many thanks to him for haunting my imagination whilst I wrote this._

**Author's Original Characters**_: Jennifer Gray, Marcus Gray, Tobias Finley, Alastair Finley, Charlotte Raine, Gregatio Thallery._

**Disclaimer**_: I own none of the Doctor Who characters, the BBC owns them all. Believe me, it's something I cry about on a daily basis._

**Story Rating**_: T, for mild swearing, possible romance and the general concept._

**Genre**_: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fantasy, Thriller, Angst, Romance, Humour, Sci-fi._

**Spoilers**_: Season One and Season Two of the New Series. Just expect to see pretty much anything._

**Setting**_: In between The Age of Steel and Army of Ghosts. I'm not sure it really matters, except that Mickey isn't with them.__  
_

**Author's Note**_: I can't even remember how this story began, but the idea has been growing in my mind for a while now. I was walking home at the time and was running a conversation through my head I could feel the Doctor and Rose having at some point. It was intense and, from it, branched this rather strange idea. So I sat down and actually thought about plot for a change and haven't uploaded until I am sure what's going to happen with it. It starts easily enough, with this chapter being more of a prologue (albeit, a very _long_ prologue) rather than much to do with the storyline. It's a rather slow starting story, but I want to make sure I build it all up correctly. I'm still working on the odds and ends, so watch this space - it may all fall apart :)_

**General Note**_: The first few chapters are both slow starting and relatively fluffy - you'll just have to trust me when I say it's all part of the storyline.__  
_

**Thank Yous**_: My wonderful betas, Briar Elwood, MontyPythonFan and LunaLovegood5, without whom you would not have this story. They have been my help and my inspiration throughout, offering advice and ideas occasionally along the way too and always keeping me on my toes. Particular thanks to Rach, who I know works hard to maintain her level of absorption in everything she does. And, of course, thanks to the BBC for letting me fiddle in their universe for a while. I've had great fun._

**Dedication**_: To all the Doctor Who fans out there, particularly of the new series, and to those of us who are heart broken to see Rose leave. This one's for you, guys..._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter I - Touching Normality****

* * *

**

There was nothing quite like watching cartoons at six o'clock in the morning with the sound turned down. A youthful man was slouched deep into the comfortable support of a faded pink sofa, the lumpy cushions adjusting to his lanky build and light weight. He shifted slightly, folding his arms over his broad chest and taking in a deep breath. The pictures of the loosely drawn cartoon reflected across his rectangular black-rimmed spectacles as he watched the shapes dance and move, creating a story in front of his eyes. The morning sun had risen slowly during the earlier hours, and now a faded yellow light bathed the room through half-closed blinds. There was a quiet serenity about the place and an odd stillness had settled over the course of the morning.

The man on the sofa sniffed and frowned slightly as he tried to make sense of the pictures on the television. He let out a small sigh through his nose, trying to pick up on the thread of plot without any sound to aid him. However, his concentration was soon broken by a smothered laugh to his right. He turned to see a bedraggled figure standing in the doorway of the sitting room, her pastel pink dressing gown draped over her like cloak and her frizzy blonde hair framing her smooth face with innocence. She had a hand in front of her mouth, hiding a wicked smile.

At the sight of her, the man's face couldn't help but crack into a huge, ecstatic grin, his brown eyes lighting up with all the wonder of the universe.

"Hello," he grinned, tipping his head to her. The cartoons were instantly forgotten. "What are you smiling at?"

He unfolded his arms and shifted up to the corner of the sofa, patting the cushions next to him as he did so. The woman grinned and stepped over to him, sitting down into the comforting feel of the fabric. He extended his arm and wrapped it around her, pulling her close to him and letting her head rest easily on his shoulder.

"I've never seen someone watch cartoons with so much concentration before," she sighed lightly, her vision flicking to the multi-coloured pictures on the screen. The man turned to her, a raised eyebrow playing on his delicate frown.

"You know, it's surprisingly difficult to follow the storyline with the sound off," he explained.

The woman in his arms gave him a dubious look.

"Doctor, it's Tom and Jerry. It doesn't really _have_ a storyline."

He turned back to the television for a moment, watching a large, grey cat run straight into an ironing board.

"But you see? That just wouldn't happen. How would a mouse be able to outsmart a cat like that? Tests prove that felines are far more intelligent than – "

"Doctor," the girl laughed, interrupting him and shaking her head. He turned his head to look at her.

"Yes, Rose?"

"It's a cartoon. It doesn't have to make sense."

He considered this for a moment, before letting an accustomed grin fall back on his face. He let out a pleasant sigh and ran his hand warmly up Rose's upper arm.

"I suppose I can't ask for much from six o'clock TV," he said in a voice that sounded as wise and old as the Earth. "It's no wonder humans take such a long time to explore the galaxy; they've still got their thoughts on a cat and a mouse chasing each other around a house!"

"Oi," Rose laughed, giving him a friendly shove with her shoulder. "That's my lot you're talking about."

"Nah," the Doctor grinned, letting his head rest against the back of the couch. "You're outside of time and space now, Rose. Like me. You get to sit back and laugh as everyone else gets it wrong, and then watch as they learn from their mistakes and grow in to wonderful, amazing, exciting new people."

Rose blinked at him for a moment, her face knotting into a slight frown.

"What are you talking about?" she asked amusedly.

The Doctor cleared his throat and grinned.

"Haven't a clue," he chirped happily. Then, as if someone had flicked a switch in his brain, his face suddenly became serious. "What are you doing awake at this hour? I wasn't expecting any company until at least nine o'clock."

As if on cue, Rose found herself stifling a persistent yawn.

"Couldn't exactly let you sit down here with nothing but Tom and Jerry," she replied, and even though the Doctor smiled at her gently, he gave her a look which told her she still had to answer his question. "I just couldn't sleep, s'all. It all seems a bit... wrong, somehow."

"Wrong?" the Doctor questioned.

Rose heaved a sigh and relaxed back into his shoulder, her attention now firmly fixed back on the antics of the loveable cat and mouse. Or, perhaps not: the cartoon had surreptitiously changed whilst they had been talking.

"Yeah, like... the TARDIS has this noise, right, a kinda 'thump', and I've gotten used to it. And my bed here isn't what I'm used to. That and my sleeping pattern's all messed up. I'm used to sleeping when I'm tired, not when it's dark, or whatever."

The Doctor smiled to himself, all too pleased with the fact that his TARDIS was living up to expectations.

"You need to sleep, Rose," he replied gently. "You're not built the same way as me. You can't not sleep."

"Neither can you," Rose pointed out, a little stubbornly. "I don't think I've ever known you to sleep."

"There was Christmas!" the Doctor defended. Rose suppressed a snort of laughter.

"Yeah, and how long ago was that? You'd still be snoring if it wasn't for Mum's tea."

"Well, there you go then. I _do_ sleep. And Jackie doesn't half make a good cup of tea."

The rest of their conversation was punctuated with a rather loud crash of a door slamming open and Jackie's voice wailing loudly down the hall.

"Will you two shut it? Some of us are trying to sleep! Honestly, it's like having a pair of kids in the house!"

The door slammed shut again and Rose cringed. The Doctor smirked and sank comfortably back into the sofa.

"Looks like the dragon's awake," he commented dryly, careful to keep his voice low.

"She's not a dragon!" Rose defended in a harsh whisper. "All right, I know she can be a bit hard to take sometimes, but _dragon_'s a bit - "

"Rose," the Doctor interrupted with a wide smirk, his eyes on the television again.

"What?" she asked irritably. The Doctor looked at her, his grin hidden in his soft eyes, his mouth sincere.

"I was talking about the cartoon."

He was immediately thumped on the shoulder.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

"God! You didn't stay there all morning, did you?" 

Rose jumped awake, the penetrating voice of Jackie echoing through her dreams. She went to rub away the sleep in her eyes, but found that she couldn't: one hand was tucked neatly underneath the Doctor's jacket, her arm across the breadth of his chest, and the other was currently being occupied by his, sandwiched between their thighs, their fingers linking in such a way that it was near impossible to tell whose were whose. She was curled up to his body protectively, her head leaning gently against his shoulder, their knees touching.

She blinked for a moment, then turned her head against the angle of her body to look at her Mum.

"Must've fallen asleep," she yawned, feeling quite bleary. Jackie raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"Rose, you sleep in your bed, not cuddled up in some alien's arms."

"Mum, I - "

"And what's the deal with 'im anyway? I thought he didn't sleep."

Rose frowned for a moment, then turned back to look at the Doctor and almost burst into affectionate laughter.

His head was slumped back against his neck, resting along the crook of the sofa. His eyes were closed serenely whilst his glasses lay lost in the tangled mess he liked to call hair. His mouth hung open as he slept, moving ever so slightly in time with the rise and fall of his slow breathing. He had his arm splayed down his side, coming to rest on his thigh. His other arm was laced with Rose's, their hands meeting at the end, sandwiched between their bodies. He looked so adorable that Rose felt she could watch him forever.

"Maybe he was tired," she reasoned, though she couldn't hide the smile in her voice. Jackie heaved a sigh, making Rose tear her eyes away from him and look to her mother.

"If you say so," Jackie muttered irritably, fiddling with the cord of her dressing gown. "Better wake sleeping beauty there and ask him what he wants for breakfast. I'll go put the kettle on."

She turned away to head for the kitchen, leaving Rose alone with the Doctor once again. Rose released her hand from the warmth of the Doctor's side to stretch, but did not make any attempt to uncurl her fingers on her other hand. She blinked at the muted television for a second, which for the moment had given up on the cartoons and was on to the nine o'clock news. Rose wondered how long she had been asleep. She remembered lying against the Doctor with her head touching his shoulder, comforted by the ongoing rise and fall of his chest. At some point in the crawling hours of the morning, his hand - wordlessly - had moved from her shoulder down the length of her arm and had found hers; he had held the top of her hand to his palm, his knuckles gently over hers, his fingers pushed through her own. There hadn't been any talking as they had sat and watched some Godawful cartoon with far too many bright, happy colours to make it believable.

But she must have fallen asleep quite early on, because the room was now a lot brighter and their sleeping positions had almost completely changed. They had switched hands, somehow, during the morning, and Rose wondered if the Doctor had moved on a conscious level, or if it was all just a reaction to how they slept together.

Rose smiled and reached up her spare hand to the Doctor's cheek, giving him light, affectionate slaps.

"Doctor," she whispered - why was she whispering? She wanted to wake him up - letting her hand fall against his skin. He hadn't shaved yet, and there was a new, coarse strain of stubble poking through his bare skin. Rose rather liked it. "Doctor, wake up. Mum's making tea, and you can't let me face her on my own."

The Doctor awoke with a jump and a snort and he sat up straight, his eyes blinking wide and his glasses slipping down his head to rest crookedly on his nose.

"Kill the Zimmer frame," he cried sleepily as he woke, making Rose jump. She then tried her very best to hide a smile as he took in a breath and turned to her, his face etched with an immense amount of seriousness. He reached up to adjust his glasses, the ends of which were poking him rather uncomfortably in the ear.

"Zimmer frame?" she questioned with a laugh.

The Doctor blinked hurriedly, then reached his hand to his eyes under his glasses, his fingers rubbing all trace of sleep away as he glided them heavily across his lids.

"You wanted to kill a Zimmer frame?" Rose pressed, her eyes on him. He looked to her, letting their gazes lock, and a huge grin spread over his face.

"In my defence, it _was_ trying to eat me."

Rose felt laughter rise inside her as she watched him try his best to be serious. "Eat you?"

"Yeah, from the feet up. Not a nice thing to experience when you're shackled to a wall."

"Right," Rose snorted, shaking her head laughingly. Then the grinned and slapped his thigh. "C'mon, Mum's making breakfast. If we help, she might not ask about us."

The Doctor's face pulled into a frown. "Us?"

"Yeah. She kinda came in when we were asleep."

"What's so wrong with that?"

Rose blinked at him. "Nothing. I just don't think she was expecting to come down in the morning to find us..."

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow and watched as Rose glanced from him down between them. Confused, he followed her gaze until he saw their linking hands. Strange: when had that happened? He slipped his fingers out of hers and flexed his hand, examining it as if it had turned green and sprouted an extra thumb. That had been an unpleasant experience, he reflected idly. Then his gaze fell back to Rose, who had been watching him.

"Don't tell me your mother got the wrong idea," he almost pleaded. "I had enough trouble with her in my last incarnation."

To his relief, Rose shook her head. "Nah, she knows that nothing like that would ever happen between us. I think. She was just a bit shocked."

"Shocked?" he frowned.

"Well, yeah. I mean, how many aliens would you expect to find curled up asleep on the settee with the TV's sound off and your daughter in his arms?"

"No, I suppose you're right. All right, mental note: never fall asleep on Jackie's sofa early in the morning with your arms around her daughter."

"And with a muted TV," Rose added with a grin.

"And with a muted TV," the Doctor echoed, matching her smile with a larger one. But then his smile disappeared and he was thinking again. "It's a bit strange, though, don't you think? I shouldn't have fallen asleep. It wasn't my time."

"It's not death, Doctor," Rose snorted. "You were probably just a bit tired."

"But that's the thing. I wasn't. I was perfectly fine, fit as a fiddle, clean as a whistle, bright eyed and bushy tailed!"

Rose blinked at him.

"Got any other metaphors you want to throw in there?"

The Doctor cast her a mock scowl before getting to his feet and stretching. He turned and reached for the remote, which had slid down the side of the sofa, and turned off the television.

"Come on, then," he beamed down at Rose, chucking the remote on to the cushions. He held his hands out in front of him. "Let's see what your mother's up to."

Rose reached up to take his hands, letting him pull her to her feet. It took surprisingly little effort.

They walked through to the kitchen where they found Jackie stirring one of three mugs of tea. She turned to see them come in.

"Kitchen's a bit of a mess," she sighed, signalling to the washing up on the counter and the cluttered table. "I wasn't expecting company."

"S'alright," Rose murmured sleepily through a yawn, heading over to a seat and slumping over the wooden table. "TARDIS has been worse."

"The TARDIS has _not_ been worse," the Doctor corrected indignantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "She works very hard to keep everything tidy."

Both of the woman turned to glare at him and the Doctor, feeling that the wrath of one Tyler was enough, let alone two, had the courtesy to look a little sheepish. Rose raised her eyebrows at him expectantly and he cleared his throat, then looked back to Jackie.

"Er... Don't worry about the kitchen, Jackie. It's no reflection on you."

Her mouth thinned and she began making her way towards him noiselessly, and a little predatorily. The Doctor gulped and took a slight step back.

"I mean, it looks lovely, honestly. Not that you don't look lovely, because obviously you do, but the kitchen is fine and a little washing up never hurt anyone. Actually, it's better than fine, it's wonderful. In fact, I'm sure it was really just a spontaneous gathering. Tell you what, why don't I just shut up and handle it while you and Rose relax?"

He was speaking hurriedly and desperately as Jackie advanced, looking for any excuse - hopefully the right one - to stop her from getting any closer to him. Getting slapped in the face was not something he wanted to repeat, and even though he thought Jackie's kitchen was fine - it was a kitchen; who cared? - he didn't want to go insulting it. Maybe it was breaking some unwritten rule that one shouldn't insult the kitchen of the mother of the girl you were travelling around the universe with. That made a certain sort of sense, didn't it? His head began to hurt with the thoughts bombarding his brain this early in the morning.

Jackie stopped dangerously close to him, her eyes narrowed; even though she was a good deal shorter than him, the Doctor had the sense to be intimidated and just a little bit scared. He was arched back a little, an apologetic expression all over his cowering face. He wondered if Rose would stop her mother from hitting him across the head. But judging by the amused expression on her face as she watched them, he assumed not.

"Listen," he reasoned quickly, looking down to the woman in front of him hopefully. "I could clean up, if you like. And make breakfast too. Then clean that up as well. You've probably got a lot to do today, and it's the least I can do for barging in on you like this."

Jackie leant in further towards him. God, this woman was relentless: what did she want, the shirt off his back? Mind you, if she asked, he wouldn't hesitate to give it to her. The Doctor hoped he would avoid a slap, at least. Be as polite as possible, that was his motto. That he had only just made up and applied now.

But Jackie's face spread into a large, patronising smile. She put her hands on her hips and stood back a little.

"Well, that's very kind of you Doctor. I dare say I could use to the help around here. But right now, could you scoot over a minute? You're standing in front of the fridge, and I need to get to the milk for the tea."

His entire face dropped about an inch, his mouth with it. He turned to look behind him where, sure enough, the large fridge stood. He gaped and blinked, moving out of the way over to Rose's side. Jackie received the milk from the fridge and shook her head with laughter as she headed back to the tea on the counter.

The Doctor leaned in to Rose, his back to her mother and his face crestfallen.

"Did I just offer to clean this kitchen and make breakfast all because I was standing in front of the fridge?" he muttered quietly, and there was desperate pleading tinged in his voice.

Rose flashed him a grin.

"Yup! From the look on your face, you'd have thought you thought she was gonna slap you one," Rose laughed.

"She's a very intimidating woman, your mother."

"Fear is a wonderful thing, Doctor," she smirked in reply.

"I wasn't scared."

"Oh, offer to make breakfast in every household, do you?"

"I have a healthy respect for people who might get violent, that's all," the Doctor defended. "I was just being polite."

"Yeah right," Rose snorted. "The day you do anything out of politeness is the day you let me fly the TARDIS."

"The TARDIS doesn't 'fly', Rose," the Doctor corrected, with mild irritation. "She glides effortlessly through the dimensions of time and space, whilst calculating our whereabouts, timeline, gravity patterns, breathing atmosphere, hostile inhabitants and practically everything else that keeps us safe."

"Safe? Oh, so that time where I practically suffocated to death when I stepped out of the doors, that was safe, was it?"

"It's not my fault you didn't stick around long enough to hear me say we were just passing through and that the air was toxic to humans."

"What about that place where I couldn't stop laughing?"

"I did tell you not to eat that stuff though, didn't I? Minor technical error."

"And that planet where we had to crawl on our hands and knees because standing on two feet was an insult to their emperor?"

"We were _safe_, though, weren't we? I was very careful not to land anywhere near that pit of rabid tourists."

"You missed our landing spot by about half a mile! It took me an absolute age to get that swampy smell out of my hair."

"Did I mention the TARDIS was not meant to be controlled with just one Time Lord?"

"Daily."

"In that case, I think I'm allowed - "

"Listen to you two, bickering like an old married couple," Jackie laughed bitterly from behind them; her tone was almost accusatory. They both jumped, having completely forgotten she was there; both turned to look at her, somewhat guiltily. She walked over with the mugs of tea and placed two of them cautiously on the table.

"It's not bickering," the Doctor countered, picking up one of the cups and taking a small sip. "It was just debating. Nice healthy bit of conversation to start the morning."

Jackie raised an eyebrow to him. "Yeah, well, speaking of starting the morning, it's about time I got up. Can't hang around in my dressing gown all day. Saucepans are in the cupboard, eggs, sausages and bacon are in the fridge; there's bread in the breadbin and cutlery in the drawers. You'd best not take too long with that cooking, either: Rose doesn't deal well with having to wait for her food." She beamed at him with the somewhat cheeky air he recognised in Rose. "See you later, Doctor."

And with that, she moved around them and left the kitchen. The Doctor's bewildered face was enough to send Rose in to peals of laughter, almost knocking her tea over in the process. He looked down at her pleadingly.

"She was really serious, wasn't she?"

"Well," Rose reasoned with a smile. "You did offer."

"In a last, desperate attempt to avoid getting a slap in the face, yes."

"I knew it!" Rose cackled, standing up and beginning to make for the door. The Doctor's face suddenly fell further and he put an arm out to stop her, blinking at her appealingly.

"You're staying here to help me, aren't you? You're not going off and leaving me to cook breakfast on my own in a strange environment with every risk of me burning the house down."

Rose screwed up her face in pretend thought. "Doctor, I have to get dressed. As Mum said, I can't exactly hang around in my dressing gown all day. You'll be fine! You've dealt with worse, haven'tcha?"

"Lord of Time, and your mother has me making breakfast on a Saturday morning. Where's the justice in that?"

She flashed him a mischievous grin.

"You'll get in her good books. She's easy enough to butter up with a nice fry-up. Besides, I think she likes you."

The Doctor couldn't help grinning. "Really?"

"Yeah. She doesn't usually let anyone near her kitchen," Rose laughed heading further to the door. "I'd hurry up if I were you, Doctor; breakfast won't cook itself!"

"You are getting seriously close to rubbery scrambled eggs, young lady," the Doctor scolded, raising an eyebrow and holding out a finger, "Go on then, go off and get dressed. Leave me here to fend for myself."

Rose laughed harder and didn't answer as she made her way up the stairs.

The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes before turning back to the mess of the kitchen. He probably would have put up more of a fight if it hadn't been for the fact that he was trying to cheer Rose up. She was still upset about leaving Mickey behind, and he would do anything to keep her in a good mood, even face the wrath of Jackie Tyler if he had to. There were some things that Rose could only talk to her mother about, and her feelings in relation to Mickey were one of them.

So, if a little daunted at the thought of breakfast, he made his way to the fridge and pulled it open determinedly. Too late did he notice the precariously balanced dish of butter and he put a hand instinctively out to stop it. Catching the dish, he put it on the table before looking to his butter-covered hand with distaste.

"The equivalent of gone off milk," he muttered, his face twisted with unamused disgust at the yellow gunk smeared over his hand. "_She_ is going to owe me."

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

Breakfast hadn't been too bad; the Doctor had surprised Rose with his cooking talents, and the response had been admirable. The eggs were done to perfection, the sausages were tender and bursting with flavour, the bacon was crunchy and crisp yet not overdone, and the toast was fried so that it was moist yet crispy. Even Jackie had been impressed. The Doctor had reaped the praise gladly before ushering the two women into the living room with fresh cups of tea so that he could handle the washing up. 

Jackie and Rose had had a real chat about Mickey and his travels in the TARDIS. She had spoken animatedly of Rose's friends and family and how much they missed her, and how everyone was keeping. Rose had avoided discussing what she and the Doctor would do next; it always brought up awkward questions and always left the unsaid point of whether Rose would be coming back, including whether or not her mum would see her again. It was never a situation either of them wanted to deal with.

Rose had, eventually, made the excuse of needing more tea and had found her way happily to the kitchen. She had had to pause in the doorframe smothering a laugh as she caught sight of the Doctor, observing him like a bird watcher to an eagle.

He was stood over the sink, bright pink marigolds and all, chucking water all over the floor as he scrubbed exaggeratedly at the dirty crockery. His jacket was hanging loosely over the back of one of the kitchen chairs and Rose swore he was humming, both loudly and badly, the theme to 'The Sound of Music'. He even gave a dramatic twirl to the music as it climaxed; however, at the sight of Rose in the doorway, he froze, mid-step, with his arms up in front of him and the rubber gloves dripping soapy water onto the floor and down his sleeves.

"It's not what it looks like," he said quickly, and Rose was surprised to see him actually blush. His face touched on the same colour as the gloves.

"Pink suits you," Rose replied cheekily through a grin. He gave her the sort of look a four year old gives their older sister when she's teasing him - tongue poking out of the mouth included - before turning back to the sink and plunging his hands into the warm water. He was very careful not to let any stray notes slip out of his mouth as Rose edged around him to reach for the kettle. She groaned to find that it was empty.

"I'll take that," the Doctor offered kindly, reaching over her and taking the kettle. He grinned at her while he did so and let their gazes lock as he fumbled with the tap, not precisely paying attention to what he was doing. As a result, the pressurised water that spurted out hit the kettle at an angle and sprayed the entire of the front of his shirt with cold water. He let out a shocked cry, turned the tap off and stared down at himself incredulously, feeling the water soak through to his chest.

Rose bit down on her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

"Maybe I'd better do it," she sniggered, forcing the Doctor out of the way with her hip and filling up the kettle with ease. She placed it back on its holder and flicked the switch with an air of dramatised triumph; when she turned back to the Doctor, there was a grin on her face.

"I can't believe you did that," she laughed, her eyes darting to his chest with amusement.

He looked at her with mild annoyance before his face broke easily into a grin. Like a cheeky schoolboy, he flicked his gloved hands out towards Rose and she flinched as small droplets of water landed on her skin.

"Oi!" she protested, dipping her hand into the warm soapy water in the sink and firing a spurt of it towards him. He looked at her, his eyes holding hers in a flirtatious gaze, each hovering on the brink of mischief with hilarity in their eyes.

And then, before either of them knew it, they were wrestling with each other by the sink, water splashing everywhere and laughter filling the air. Rose put up a good fight against the Doctor and soaked him at least twice more before he managed to scoop up a mass in his hands and fire it all over the front of her shirt. She looked down, dripping, as her white top began to turn ever so slightly transparent: thank God she'd worn more than one layer. With a determined look in her eye she had shoved her hands to his lower chest and proceeded to find out if he was ticklish.

The laughter had soared up from the both of them and the Doctor gasped, squirming under her exquisitely accurate fingers, not expecting such an attack. His eyes narrowed with mock fury and he forced Rose back against the counter so she couldn't reach any more water – but her hand was still within reach of the sink and she fired a good lot of it right into his face. He blinked for a moment and grinned down at her stupidly, the entire right side of his face dripping with warm water. He then sandwiched her with his hips into the corner where two counters met, before extending a long arm across her and scooping up a quantity of soapy water in a large measuring jug. The both of them were in fits of hysterical giggles as Rose - rather half-heartedly - hit him in the chest to beat him away from her. She shrieked when she spotted the water jug, but this merely spurred him on. The Doctor's eyes gleamed mischievously as he teetered the jug threateningly above her head.

"Say I'm a good friend," he choked through laughter as Rose plunged her hands to his ticklish chest again. The measuring jug wobbled dangerously as he closed his eyes and bit down on his lip, fighting back the unbidden laughter creeping almost painfully through his chest. However, seemingly an expert at this sort of thing, he managed to keep her firmly wedged between the counter and himself nonetheless.

"No!" she giggled, her feet slipping on the soaked linoleum floor.

"Say –I'm – a – good – friend," the Doctor repeated with glee, his voice broken with penetrating laughter as Rose's hands scaled his soaked shirt. "Unless you want this over your head. Say, 'Doctor, you are the best friend I've ever had and you make the best breakfast in the world'. No, wait, make that the universe. It's really rather easy to beat you lot down here: you don't put any effort into – "

"ROSE MARION TYLER!" the voice of Jackie stormed angrily from the doorway. "What the _hell_ have you done to my kitchen!"

The colour in the Doctor's face dropped like a waterfall and he leapt away from Rose as if he'd been stung. He hastily put the jug of water down innocently on the table before looking up into the face of a very annoyed mother. But, for the moment, she had eyes only for her daughter.

"I thought you came out here to make _tea_, not flirt with the kitchen staff!"

The Doctor put a hand out to protest that, first of all, it wasn't flirting and that second, he was not 'staff'. But the glowering look wavering from Jackie towards him was enough to send him recoiling and he shut his mouth hastily. Her eyes swung back to her daughter.

"Well? What have you got to say for yourself?" she demanded testily.

A somewhat guilty silence hung in the air like a thundercloud as Rose and the Doctor exchanged a pained look. In the silence that followed, a deep, rumbling sound filled the room, shortly followed by a hollow 'click'.

"Kettle's boiled," Rose said hopefully, casting a glance back to her mother with a pleading look. However, her mother was having none of it.

"I'll give you _kettle's boiled_," Jackie hissed, her eyes narrowing. "What's goin' on? Look at you; you're _soaked_!"

"He started it," Rose mumbled sulkily, peeling herself away from the sopping surface. The Doctor turned to look at her incredulously, in sheer disbelief that Rose had just landed him in it.

"I did no such thing!" he defended hotly. Rose made to protest, but was cut off by her mother.

"I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it!" Jackie cried loudly, letting her hands rest back to the their familiar position on her hips. "Look at this mess! It'll take me a lifetime to clear up all that water. And as for the racket you two were making; half the bloody street could hear you! And _you_!"

She rounded on the Doctor waving a finger ferociously at him. Her expression was livid and he flinched.

"_You_ should know better than to go running around with girls her age. Lord knows I don't want to hear what you get up in that ship of yours - it's none of my business. But under my roof, it's my rules, and we'll have none of _that,_ thank you very much! The neighbours will talk!"

The Doctor gaped at her, not quite being able to believe what Jackie had just said (or, at the very least, implied). He put out a hand calmingly towards her.

"Look, Jackie, if you'll just let me explain - "

"That's Mrs Tyler to you," she hissed with venom.

At this, Rose finally found her voice again and stepped bravely towards her mother.

"Mum, it's all right. The Doctor didn't mean anything by it, honestly. That's not the kind of friendship we have."

"Or will ever have," he added earnestly, and his eyebrows rose meaningfully.

He blinked slowly at Rose's mother and when he spoke, his voice had lost all the laughter that had stolen it before.

"Rose is right. We don't have that kind of a relationship, and I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say it. Any intentions I have towards your daughter are entirely honourable, Ja- er, Mrs Tyler. You have no need to worry about us overstepping the boundaries: we just don't care about each other like that."

At a look from the Doctor, Rose nodded earnestly; but it faded rather quickly when he turned back to her Mum.

"Could have fooled me," Jackie snapped huffily, her eyes narrowing further. "And just what am I supposed to do about my kitchen?"

The Doctor looked around and could see what she meant; he had only managed to wash up half of the cookery things. The rest was still sprawled messily around the various surfaces. There was water absolutely everywhere, on both the floor and counters and the Doctor, with some embarrassment, realised he was still wearing the bright pink fuchsia rubber gloves. He must look quite ridiculous, even for his standards.

"I'll sort this out," he offered a little weakly, wondering how long he could possibly spend in one person's kitchen before going insane.

"No you won't," Jackie corrected with an exasperated sigh, her hands on her hips. "You've been in here enough already. I don't think my kitchen could take another second of your 'help'. Go on; push off outta here, the both of you. I know there's places you'd rather be than stuck here with your old Mum."

This last comment was directed to Rose and there was a fondness in her voice that showed she both understood they needed to leave and that she was upset - but not heart broken – at the idea of Rose going.

The Doctor cleared his throat and pulled the gloves off, putting them back by the sink. He then picked up his coat and draped it loosely over his arms, giving Jackie an appreciative nod.

"Thanks for everything, Mrs Tyler," he smiled before edging out of the room. "And sorry about the mess."

"Yeah, yeah, just don't expect a huge welcome with open arms when you come back. And that's Jackie, by the way," she called after him with a smile. Then she turned her gaze back to her daughter as he disappeared into the living room.

"C'm'ere sweetheart," she said fondly, holding her arms wide.

Rose smiled and stepped forward to hug her mother, feeling a fresh wave of tears dawn on her. She never really liked saying goodbye, because there was always the tiniest of chances that it may be the last time. Just like Mickey; that had been really sudden and even though she had got to say goodbye, the thought of him would always pull on the strings of her heart.

"That Doctor, he's treating you right, isn't he?" Jackie asked with slight worry, tucking her daughter's hair fondly behind her ear.

"Yeah, Mum," Rose half-laughed, half-sniffed. "He's the best."

"And he's not... pressuring you in to anything you don't want to do? An' I'm not just talking about the planets and that." Jackie raised a knowing eyebrow to her daughter as she spoke.

"No, Mum," Rose almost laughed. "He isn't like that. He's very worried that I'm happy and comfortable and not feeling too homesick. He's good like that."

"Good," Jackie purred happily. But then she considered her daughter in her arms for a moment, and the smile subsided. "You don't seem too happy 'bout that?"

"Nah, it's nothing," Rose shrugged a little sadly. "I mean, he says he doesn't want anything like that. And that's fine. It's just... I don't mind all this hopping about between worlds and time. Love it, really. But with the Doctor, you kind of have to take what you can get, because once he decides you're out of there, that's it, y'know? So it's just sort of... sad... knowing that he'll never..."

She trailed off, feeling that she had probably said too much already. She couldn't even begin to voice her fears surrounding the Doctor, least of all to her mother.

Jackie sighed and looked at her daughter with all the care of a mother in the world.

"He likes you, Rose," she said wisely. "He thinks the world of you: even your batty old Mum can see that. Don't give up on him, love."

Rose gave a weak smile.

"Couldn't give up on him if I wanted to," she replied, and knew that her mother understood she was talking about loving him too much to be able to give him up.

"All right then, sweetheart."

They shared a last hug, and then Rose disappeared around the corner into the living room. The Doctor was standing with his back to the room, gazing out of the front window. Even though she made no noise, he still knew she was there and turned to see her walk in.

"All set?" he asked casually, though the question was heavily weighted. He would not be telling Rose any time soon that his finely tuned ears had heard every word of her and her mother's conversation. He rather wanted to keep his limbs in tact - they could be quite useful at times.

"Yeah," Rose nodded and stuck her head briefly out of the living room door. "We're heading off now, Mum!"

The two of them walked down the hall towards the front door, the Doctor resting his hand lightly on the small of Rose's back with reassurance rather than pressure.

Jackie gave her daughter a quick peck on the cheek, and then pulled her in to another hug.

"Goodbye love," she whispered warmly. "And don't you be waiting too long until your next visit."

"I won't," Rose promised, though how she could guarantee it she didn't know. Absolutely anything could happen once you stepped into the TARDIS, and the Doctor wasn't famous for his amazing timing.

"See you then, Jackie," the Doctor chirped happily, flicking the latch back on the front door and pulling it open. "Are you sure you won't walk with us to the TARDIS?"

"Well, that's very kind of you Doctor, but no, I don't think so. I'm in the middle of a really good goss book at the moment; you wouldn't _believe_ some of the stuff that Robbie gets up to! And anyway, the pages won't read themselves."

The Doctor's face broke in to an expansive grin. "You've just given me a great idea for our next visit!" he said brightly, before looking to Rose. "You just wait; you'll love it there, I promise. The views are fantastic."

She smiled up to him and the Doctor pretended not to notice that it didn't reach her eyes.

"Just bring her back in one piece," Jackie warned with severity. "You know I can put you through hell if you hurt her."

"It isn't possible. I'd sooner eat the globulous ooze of a carnivorous Whorr than hurt your daughter."

Jackie, though thoroughly disgusted - and, frankly, a little disturbed - by the thought, was touched by the sentiment.

"You'd best be off," she laughed. "Otherwise I'll never get rid of you, and that kitchen won't get done 'til tomorrow."

Last farewells out of the way, the Doctor and Rose left the flat, the door clicking shut quietly behind them. They walked down the few steps to the ground floor and pavement outside, before treading their way to the TARDIS. The Doctor had had the sense to shift it from their original landing spot at the beginning of their stay, stating quite sensibly that it could hardly stay in Jackie's living room for its duration.

"I think she's a bit sad at not seeing Mickey again," Rose said quietly after a while, breaking into the Doctor's pensive thoughts. The Doctor, before he answered, sneezed.

"Bless you," Rose laughed. "You must be hay-feverish. Imagine that: never thought you were really affected by that sort of stuff."

"Shows I spend too much time here," the Doctor teased, falling into a steady rhythm with his feet. "And I'm sure your Mum will miss Mickey. We all will."

"Yeah," Rose said quietly. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk about it with each other, but somehow now didn't seem the right time. He turned to look at her carefully as they rounded a corner.

"I will too, you know."

"What?"

"Miss him. Probably not as much as you, but he was certainly useful to have around. And he could make me laugh. Sometimes."

Rose smiled, touched by the Doctor's effort. She carefully slid her hand into his, their fingers intertwining like the roots of a flower. They walked on in silence for a while, each surrounded by their own thoughts but perfectly content to exist by each other's side.

"I never said it, y'know," Rose sighed at length as they walked into the large alley where the TARDIS was parked.

"Said what?" the Doctor questioned idly. She stopped walking, and consequently, the Doctor did too. He looked down to her, his rakish grin spelling 'trouble' all over his face.

Rose hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Doctor. You are the best friend I've ever had and you make the best breakfast in the world."

His grin widened, becoming more intense, and he let his hand tighten softly around hers.

"Universe," he corrected good-naturedly.

"All right," Rose laughed in agreement. "Best breakfast in the universe."

"Well, that's only because I haven't taken you to the restaurant at the end of the universe," the Doctor beamed cheerfully, continuing their walk to the TARDIS. "They have the best food you will ever eat out there. Your taste buds will love you forever. Though, the head chef did learn most of what he knows from me. Nice fellow. Bit dim, though. Could do with a haircut."

"What are you talking about?" Rose laughed as he leant against the frame of the blue police box, making no attempt go in.

"You'll see. Maybe I'll take you there some time."

"Oh... got somewhere else in mind, have you Doctor?"

He grinned down at the young, inquisitive woman by his side.

"Rose Tyler: what do you say to the best adventure of your life?"

She looked up to him, his smile reflected pleasantly across her face.

"That depends," she smirked. "Are you gonna have a shower first? You stink of bacon and fried bread."

She barely even felt the hand that pushed her laughingly into the TARDIS as a response.

* * *

Next Chapter...

_**Chapter II - Language and Literature **_

_"Anyway..." he chirped brightly, bouncing on his feet and shoving his hands in his pocket again. Then he looked at Rose in a slightly flirtatious way, his brown eyes blinking at her appealingly. "You sure that's the one you want? Sure you're sure? Surey McSure-sure?"_

_"Doctor!" Rose snapped irritably, shutting the book. But then she smiled at him calmly. "I'm sure." _

_"__Good!" he beamed, snatching her hand and pulling her away from the library with surprising strength. His eyes adopted a darkened excitement about them and he didn't turn back to look at her when he next spoke. "Because it's now when the fun _really_ starts."_


	2. Language and Literature

**Partners in Time _- A Tenth Doctor and Rose Story_**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note:**_ First of all, I have to apologise for the time this took to post. I didn't mean for it to take this long, but it's the way it turned out and I was whisked off somewhere for the weekend, so I didn't get much of a chance to think about uploading._

_Second of all, thank you_** so**_ much to all the lovely reviews. Seriously, responses to the last chapter were amazing, and I am always touched when people take the time to post reviews. Reviews make me happy and, I'll be honest, they _**do**_ spur me on. So huge thanks to you guys and, once again, sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Oh, and I've added another character to my Originals on the first chapter :3 Well, hey-ho, off we go! _

* * *

**Chapter II - Language and Literature**

Rose turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower, reaching for the towel the TARDIS had graciously put out for her. She grinned and stretched her arms up, feeling every muscle in her spine prickle pleasantly as she did so. It was good to be home.

She had retreated to her room not long after she and the Doctor had walked in and instantly stripped all her damp clothes off for a warm, comforting shower in her own bathroom. She loved the bathroom the TARDIS had given her. It branched off from her bedroom, and was more than large enough for all her cosmetics, shampoos, conditioners, hair sprays, body sprays, perfumes and practically anything else one would need in a bathroom; yet it was relaxingly cosy, too, and she didn't feel at all daunted walking in there.

The steam rose comfortingly around her in gentle wisps, clinging to the damp skin of her cheeks and soaked strands of her hair. Rose grinned to herself. Certainly better than the shower at her Mum's flat, no matter how much she pretended otherwise. Even coming out of it, she felt as though every inch of her was tingling with fresh cleanliness, as if the TARDIS water was somehow purer than London water. Actually, come to think of it, it probably was.

Rose's gaze fell on the mirror above the dressing table and her mouth curled into a touched smile. The Doctor had done his usual trick of leaving a note in the steam on the glass. It had been going on for a while now, a little tradition that had been set up without words. The first time it had happened, Rose had been surprised and a little put off to think of the Doctor invading her shower time without her knowledge. However, she trusted him completely and knew that there was nothing vulgar going on: he just liked to leave her little notes about the place.

It wasn't only the shower, either. Sometimes, when she woke from a particularly long sleep, she would find a post-it note stuck to her bedpost, or the wall by her dresser, or the door of the wardrobe, or - just the once - to her forehead. She found it oddly reassuring and wouldn't have changed it for the world.

His last self hadn't done things like this. He had shown his appreciation for her in different ways; but as soon as it became too domestic for his liking, he would switch off and become completely involved with something mundane and complicated. He still did that occasionally in this form, but it was for different reasons. Rose let a fleeting smile pass over her lips at the thought of the old Doctor and how different yet similar he was to hers. Hers? Since when had he been 'hers'? She didn't know, but she was pleased with the easy transition and wondered at what other surprises this Doctor had to offer.

She looked at the loosely scribbled scrawl of his writing, the high loops and the low curves. It was attractive in every sense of the word and was so obviously his that no one else could have perfected it in quite the same way.

_Rose; your showers take far too long. I started mine after you and I've already dried, dressed, shaved and solved that mathematical problem that had been bothering me. Anyway, meet me in the library when you're done. I need to speak to you about our next planet._

_Love._

Even reading the word, her heart skipped a beat; it always did. He always signed his notes 'love'. It was so casual it almost hurt. She wondered about the day where he might really mean it: if there was ever to be a day at all.

Rose wondered, idly, how on earth he had managed to fit that long note onto only an average sized mirror. Anyone else would have run out of space and ended up curling their writing outside the perimeter; or given up and just written the thing on paper. But no, not the Doctor. She supposed it was yet another one of the qualities that she adored in him.

She dried and dressed quickly, giving her hair only a brief wave with the hair dryer. She slapped some subtle makeup on to her face and, just for the hell of it, a squirt or two of a new perfume she had picked up from her Mum. She inhaled her wrists for a moment, nose tingling with the crisp, flowery smell that rose to meet her. The Doctor had told her time and again that she needn't bother with either make up or perfume, stating quite obviously that the amount of trouble they usually ended up getting into was frankly not worth the bother. But she did it anyway: some old habits just refused to die. And maybe, one of these days, the Doctor would take the time to notice.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror (now reluctantly cleared of the Doctor's little message), Rose smiled and made her way down the lengthy corridors of the TARDIS to the library. She had, if she were honest with herself, not really spent as much time in there as she meant to. When she was younger she had always loved to read, even if she didn't get the chance to do so very often. The thought of being able to disappear into a world created by a stranger - and usually, quite a perfect little world - was entrancing, and she loved the clever twists and ironic sense of humour she so often came across. It gave her an escape from the real world for a happy couple of hours.

Of course, with the Doctor, she didn't need that escape. The real world had suddenly become very much like the world she wanted to escape to, so reading about adventures she could surpass easily in her sleep seemed a little redundant. Still, maybe one of these days she would take it up again.

Rose peeked around the door of the library. The main foyer was a vast room with bookshelves circling almost the entire perimeter. There were doors set in to the opposite wall leading in to more rooms, each categorised for the appropriate genre of book. When she had first asked, the Doctor had told her that the library had more rooms than he could count. He'd also reminded her that this was quite impressive, considering that he was 'genius' and could therefore count far higher than the average intelligent humanoid. She had grinned and taken it to be just another way to gloat about his superiority; however, looking around now, she would not be entirely surprised if it turned out to be true.

There was a large table that spread the length and breadth of the room, leaving only about a metre space between its edge and the bookshelves. The table was wooden and lined with sheets of paper, blueprints, parchments, ancient books, fresh books, manuals, textbooks and even the odd fictitious novel here or there. Evidently, this was the Doctor spent the most part of his time when Rose was asleep, or eating, or watching television, or showering, or doing pretty much anything else that didn't involve being in the console room with him.

For the moment, he was sat in one of the tall, smart, red velvet-covered chairs that lined the table. There must have been about twenty of them in this one room alone. 'Chair' would not have been a word Rose would have used to describe them, perhaps picking 'throne' as being more appropriate. The Doctor didn't tend to go in for glamorous, but obviously his reading habitat was a different matter than, say, the kitchen. Or his bedroom, come to that.

He was leant back in the chair, his legs stretched up to rest on the table, his ankles crossed. In the crook of his lap lay a large, heavy book and the Doctor was reading it intently, his glasses pushed firmly up the bridge of his nose. His hands were linked behind his head, providing appropriate support whilst his eyes glided easily over the pages.

Rose coughed loudly from the doorway. His head snapped up and greeted her with a large grin as he reached down to close the book and put it on the table. He swung his legs down and stood, stretching to his full height.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd died in there," he grinned, his head cocking slightly.

"Nah. Just needed an extra long shower."

"Oh, why's that? Were you suffering from 'extra' biological odour?"

Rose wrinkled her nose and frowned at him distastefully. The Doctor noted her expression.

"Too far?" he asked with a hint of worry. "I went too far, didn't I?"

She grinned and shook her head laughingly in response, then ambled over to him, her hands in the pockets of her jeans. Bending over the book he had just been reading, she was shocked to recognise it.

"The Secret Garden..." she said with wonder, before looking up to the Doctor with a smile. "Didn't know you were a Frances Hodgson Burnett fan, Doctor."

"Neither did I," he replied dryly. "But it's surprising what you can put up with if you really make the effort. Now then; do you know why I wanted to meet in here?"

"Because you've finally had enough of the console room and wanted a change of scene?" Rose suggested teasingly.

The Doctor frowned amusedly at her.

"Honestly Rose; you should think before you let things slip out of your mouth like that. No, I wanted to talk to you about books," he added hurriedly, ignoring her look of dismay at his almost-insult.

She folded her arms and nodded.

"Good place to be, then."

"Yes, I had no _idea_ there would be so many books in a library!" he retorted with friendly sarcasm.

Rose hit him good-naturedly on the shoulder and he grinned at her.

"Moving swiftly on," the Doctor continued, turning around to look at the bookshelves before him. He spread his arms out wide either side of him as he let his eyes scale the sheer height of the shelves. "Books, Rose! The centre of the universe, or near enough. The ability to share knowledge, ideas, pleasure, warmth, comfort, sorrow, anger, hate, misery, betrayal... Everything! All in the space of a few hundred pages! Or, if you're lucky, a few thousand."

Rose didn't point out that she had never read a book with a thousand pages; she assumed it would be something the Doctor would already know, bearing in mind he was speaking to her as if she'd never picked up a book in her life. He went on, seemingly unaware of her vaguely annoyed expression: although that wasn't surprising, considering his back was turned to her.

"There have been so many wonderful stories, don't you think? All books are fantastic if you look long enough, but I'm talking about fiction! Novels! The gift of original imagination! You've got your Secrets Gardens, and your Wuthering Heights, and your Lords of the Rings...es... I suppose..."

He trailed off for a moment, a distracted frown creasing his forehead as he thought about the tense he was using. However, he was prompted back in to his train of thought when Rose said his name curiously.

"Anyway," he grinned. "You have your Lions, Witches and Wardrobes - though, to be honest, I'd recommend The Magician's Nephew over that one. Far better - and your Oliver Twists, and your Alice in Wonderlands... and then you've got the smaller ones, the ones that nobody's heard of because they sit on a dusty shelf in the back room of a second-hand bookstore their entire life. Or, better than that, they sit as an unpublished manuscript in the bottom of an author's drawer because they can't bear to let it out into the real world. I'm talking about 'Years you Left Behind' and 'White Paint' and other such Godawful stories that barely made it to the dustbins, let alone the shelves, because they were purely that dismal. Cringeworthy, in fact! But all important in their own special ways."

The Doctor stopped and turned, his grin as wide as his arms. He caught on to Rose's confused expression and merely smiled harder, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child at Christmas time.

"And you have... absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" he asked innocently through his wide smile, his voice light and cheerful.

She considered him for a moment, her tongue poking out between her teeth in a smile.

"Yeah, I get it Doctor," she said at last, her eyebrows rising. "Books are great."

"Not just _great_, Rose!" he cried joyfully, bouncing forward to her with such ferocity that she jumped. "They're amazing! Fantastic! The key to all knowledge! In every book you pick up, there's a wonderful adventure around every page turn, hidden in every word and released in every metaphor. I would choose books over time travel any day Rose, I really would. God knows I've learned a lot more through literature than saving the world, and that's saying something."

"Right," she laughed, his ecstatic nature rubbing off on her. He grinned at her broadly, reaching for her hands, then swung them from side to side as his eyes darted flirtatiously over her.

"Pick one," he dared, his eyes lighting up.

"You what?"

"Pick one!" he repeated with ecstatic vigour. "Go on Rose. You love to read, I know you do. So walk around this library and pick a book; pick any one you like. Any single one! Your favourite one would be good, but if you don't have a favourite, just pick whatever comes to mind, whatever one you're drawn to."

Rose frowned up at him, biting back the temptation to laugh.

"You're mad, you are," she chided affectionately, giving him a quick bash across as the shoulder.

"As a March hare," the Doctor agreed with his infectious grin. "But why stop there? Why not June, or September, or February for that matter?"

She snorted and shook her head laughingly, parting herself from the Doctor's grip and trailing her hands carefully over the lower shelves of books.

Rose was surprised to see the books that he had mentioned previously on the shelf right in front of her. And then there were the books she remembered from her childhood, like Anne of Green Gables, A hundred and One Dalmatians, and the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

"Why are all of these books from my timeline, Doctor?"

"Well, no point in asking you to choose a book you know nothing about, is there? It'll spoil the magic; and the magic, Rose, is very important. Very important indeed. Be sure to choose carefully."

She paused, her hand hovering over a dusty, faded beige hardback book. The golden letters woven into the material spine were impossible to make out, so Rose, going by instinct, extended a finger to the top of the spine and plucked the book neatly from the shelf. It felt light and solid in her hands and she let her eyes graze over the plain, front cover. The only words to be seen were embroidered into the old fabric with beautiful precision. 'Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen'.

Rose gaped at the beautiful book and looked to the Doctor. He grinned at her look, but then he caught a glance at the book she was holding; his smile faded slightly.

"Not Pride and Prejudice," he complained with an exaggerated groan. "I had enough of that with young Jane herself. Though her earlier drafts weren't so good. D'you know what she almost called that? _First Impressions_. I mean, honestly, what sort of name is that? She's one heck of a writer for her time, mind, I'll give her that: but as dull as they come, I'm afraid. She needed a lot of help with that one."

She frowned at him disbelievingly.

"Doctor, you did _not_ meet Jane Austen," she scolded, mild irritation in her voice. His face lit up at her challenge.

"Open the front cover," he said softly, his deep eyes shining with a sudden, entrancing magic.

Rose did so and all but gasped at the writing looped in black ink over the inner page.

_Doctor,_

_I thank you sincerely for all the help you have offered whilst writing this novel. It has been a pleasure to know of a man such as yourself. Perhaps one day we shall meet again, though I know you mean to travel. In the meantime, take every enjoyment out of the first copy of Pride and Prejudice._

_Yours forever,_

_Jane_

Rose looked up from the book with dubious wonder in her rich eyes. The Doctor grinned down at her.

"Obviously the TARDIS transferred that note to the book," he reasoned, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Books weren't printed like that in her day. But that message is as real as they come."

Rose cocked an eyebrow. The Doctor, picking up on it, grinned.

"_Any_way..." he chirped brightly, bouncing on his feet and shoving his hands in his pocket again. Then he looked at Rose in a slightly flirtatious way, his brown eyes blinking at her appealingly. "You sure that's the one you want? Sure you're sure? Surey McSure-sure?"

"Doctor!" Rose snapped irritably, shutting the book. But then she smiled at him calmly. "I'm sure."

"Good!" he beamed, snatching her hand and pulling her away from the library with surprising strength. His eyes adopted a darkened excitement about them and he didn't turn back to look at her when he next spoke. "Because it's now when the fun _really_ starts."

He refused to tell her a single thing about where he was taking her. He didn't tell her what she needed to wear, how she needed to act, whom she had to pretend to be to get past security. He didn't even tell her if there would _be_ security. He just flashed her his large, cheeky grin and kept silent, as well as pocketing her book and claiming she 'may need it for later'.

He didn't tell her who they would meet, what the planet was like, how far away it was from Earth, what sort of timeline they were visiting or even why they were visiting. He just cackled with manic delight as he pushed buttons, pulled levers and generally jumped around the TARDIS controls like a frog at a wedding. Rose hadn't had the time to stay angry at his evasion however, as she soon found herself flung to the floor in a rather violent landing. The Doctor, of course, kept irritatingly on balance.

"God's sake," Rose muttered, her arm now sporting a fresh bruise where she had knocked into the railing as she fell.

The Doctor was at her side in a minute to help her up, his jaunty grin never once leaving his eyes as he slung an arm around her shoulder and walked her to the door of the TARDIS.

"That was a crummy landing, Doctor," Rose complained as they reached it. "And if you go on at me again about how it's s'posed to be driven by more than one time lord, I'm heading straight back to my room."

But not even her threats could dampen his high spirits. Not today.

"It's not a car, Rose," he snorted with feigned contempt. "You can't simply 'drive' it. One has to initiate appropriate control and guide the TARDIS safely through the magnificent dimensions - "

" - Of time and space, yeah, I know," she finished impatiently, giving him a quick punch on his torso. "We've already had this conversation today Doctor, and it's not getting any easier on the ears."

He straightened up with a mock frown covering his forehead.

"Well, excuse me for trying to offer you a little education," he complained looking at the woman in his arm.

Rose merely grinned at him. He couldn't help it: he grinned back.

"Now tell me, Rose," he continued hastily, a gleam in his eye. "What's the best place you could ever imagine being? Any place at all."

She thought for a moment, her hand slipping idly around the Doctor's waist and her eyes looking to his as she spoke.

"A planet made entirely of chocolate with the best looking guys you've ever seen and a sunset to die for?"

"Interesting," the Doctor said with a contemplative look. "I'm quite brilliant sometimes, you know."

"Why?" Rose asked, a hint of unbidden excitement in her voice. "You haven't taken me there, have you?"

"Nah, 'course not. There's no such planet!" he beamed. Then his grin turned into a smirk which hid in his eyes, and he lowered his head slightly to hers. "But now I know what your fantasy is, I can use it against you," he added cheekily.

Rose looked away, her grip on his waist loosening somewhat. She knew he was joking, talking about her made up planet. But if he ever found out what her real fantasy was, she would die of utter embarrassment: mostly because he played a rather large part in it.

"Are you blushing, Rose Tyler?" he gloated with self-impressed awe. When she didn't answer, his grin simply widened. Then he straightened up, composing himself, and the grip over her shoulder tightened.

"Right, if there's one thing you remember," the Doctor said as he pulled open the door, "Let it be that I am the most fantastic, amazing person in the entire universe, and you owe me more than just breakfast."

She didn't have time to ask as he yanked the TARDIS door open and ushered her over the threshold.

The room they stepped out to was so clinically white that Rose wondered if he'd made a mistake. Her excitement fell instantly away; she stopped and turned to look at him, shrugging off his arm with a frown on her face. He pouted towards her, clearly not impressed with her reaction.

"Don't you like it?" he questioned a little sadly.

She took another look around the room, for good measure.

"'S a little... dull..."

The Doctor had to give her that, he supposed. The TARDIS had landed on the edge of a large, white room. It reminded him vaguely of the sort of room one put delirious people into, straightjacket to boot. The white walls were heavily padded with a foamy, cushiony material, as was the floor and ceiling. It was, if he were honest with himself, as if he'd landed inside a giant marshmallow. Perhaps Rose deserved the right to be unimpressed.

Still, never one to be put off by a little bad scenery, he bounded over to one of the walls and pushed his palms flat against it, levelling his head between them and pressing his ear intently to the wall. He tapped delicately at it with his index finger, but heard nothing except the muffled thud of its contact.

"Are you looking for a door, Doctor?" Rose asked wisely.

He straightened up and turned, letting his shoulder blades rest heavily against the wall as he looked at her. She was standing to the side of the TARDIS, her arm sandwiched in the small gap between his police box and the wall.

"I was, yes," he replied brightly. "How did you know?"

She smirked at him, and pushed a little, square button her finger was resting on. The Doctor would never have thought to check beside the TARDIS, she was sure. A door shaped part of the wall silently detached and slid sideways, opening out into a long corridor.

Through some cruel twist of fate it just so happened this door was where the Doctor was leaning.

He promptly lost his balance and fell over.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

Rose didn't stop laughing as they followed the bare corridor all the way to the reception desk. She could barely contain her snorts as the Doctor handed over the psychic paper, which introduced them simply as Dr. John Smith and Rose Tyler. The receptionist, a blue, oval creature with a large, blinking eye on a tall stalk, tapped their booking into her computer and handed the paper back. The Doctor looked to Rose with an expression of complete scolding on his face, as if he could tell her to shut up candidly with his eyes. No such luck. 

He thanked the receptionist, who smiled to them sweetly with her little black mouth and wished them a good stay, before placing his hand firmly in the small of Rose's back and scowling as he led her beyond the desk and around the corner.

"It isn't funny," he muttered, though his tone was still light. "That hurt, you know."

"Diddums," Rose snorted, closing her eyes to fight back her laughter. She took a breath to calm herself, but when she chanced a sideways glance at the Doctor, his face was enough to send her off again. "You went down like a sack of spuds!"

"So would you if your leaning support suddenly disappeared!" he defended hotly, his footsteps slowing to a halt. Rose had the courtesy to stop too and look up at him. "And that's not much thanks for bringing you here, is it?"

Rose pouted.

"All I've seen so far is an empty room, an empty corridor and a really boring reception room. Oh, and a nice view of your feet," she added with a wicked grin.

The Doctor muttered a few choice words in Gallifreyan: the one language he had told the TARDIS never to translate for Rose. His language was just too colourful, in more ways than one.

"You want excitement?" he replied evenly, ignoring her obviously appalled look. "I'll give you excitement."

"What was that you said? It wasn't English, and the TARDIS translates - "

He gave her an affectionate but exasperated look that told her to be quiet, which she surprisingly obeyed. The Doctor grinned at her and stepped over to a panel set in to the long corridor, beginning to tap at the buttons fruitlessly. Eventually, he sighed and gave up, holding down the communications device instead.

"We'd like the vision shields down, please," he stated almost mechanically into the device.

An eerie, automated voice floated down out of nowhere.

"Accepted," the cool sound of the machine breezed. If the TARDIS ever had a voice, Rose decided, that would be it.

There was a moment of stillness, in which the Doctor turned back to her and flashed her a glance at his teeth.

Before either of them knew it there was a great, thunderous grating sound, like metal on heavy metal. Rose gaped as she realised the walls of the corridor they were standing on were folding slowly away. The pathway was filled with a bright sunlight and she had to bring a hand to her eye to squint around her. It wasn't long before the entire walkway's worth of metallic walls had disappeared, leaving nothing but glass to stand on. Even the floor and ceiling vanished, though quite where they went Rose didn't know. However, her breath was captured far too much by the scenery to worry much about metal walls.

The Doctor and Rose were stood in the middle of a broad glass corridor, several thousand metres up in the air. At one end - the end they had just walked from - lay the reception room and, beyond it, the holding bay for the TARDIS. The other end of the corridor led to a vast cylindrical building. It was huge. Twice the height of the Empire State Building, it towered over the little city below it like a metal giant. It must have been at least as wide as two football fields in diameter. The surface was a metallic, urban blue which shimmered in the light of one of the three suns that glinted on it. Its exterior was covered with small turrets all the way around, giving the building a rough sort of look. There must have been hundreds of thousands of the glass corridors branching off from it in all directions, each walkway leading to its own little reception room and spaceship parking-bay.

However, the most impressive sight by far was what lay below. Through the tangle of glass corridors, far down below on the land of the planet, there lay an open and vast city. It expanded so far that it stretched all the way to the horizon line. Though impossible to tell from their height, down below the streets were woven together tightly like sardines in a tin. The locals were walking through the street on this glorious day and shapes of what may have been cars - some form of transportation, at least - moved and shuffled between the streets. Not one of the beigy-coloured buildings even came in to contest with the cylindrical centre figure, and this was a city obviously far ahead of its time in the technology standards.

Up in the sky birds had taken to flight, though they were not like any birds Rose had ever seen. They were huge with four, sweeping wings and gigantic orange beaks. They looked big enough to ride on, and slightly prehistoric. The sky itself was a brilliant pale pink, mingled with a rich blue and a deep green. Three suns hung in the air and bruised the atmosphere with their own colours, creating an image of a washed out painting. It was beautiful.

Rose's nose was practically pressed to the glass with wonder, her mouth hung open in amazement and her eyes wide; every inch of her was soaking up the wonderful imagery before her. It was almost too much to take in all at once.

There was a light hand on her shoulder and Rose - who had become thoroughly entranced with the city - jumped and let out a gasp, before turning around to the Doctor's chest. He was standing quite close to her, having obviously come up behind her to look over her shoulder as she watched.

"Do you like it?" he breathed calmly, his intense stare boring into her as if he could see her very soul.

Rose felt her heart flutter, and knew it wasn't just the magnitude of their height.

"Doctor, I..." was all she could reply, staring wondrously up to him, then back to the city.

He grinned playfully at her, balancing precariously on the front of his feet, looking as though he would fall over at any moment. He leaned forward, ever so slightly, his gaze fixed on Rose as she watched him edge closer to her. She could hear his calm, heavy breathing and it made her own light breaths sound so ridiculous that she was almost embarrassed. The Doctor's eyes were searching her face intensely; as if it was the first time he had ever seen her.

But suddenly, as if realising how close to each other they actually were, he thrust his hands in his pockets and took a step towards their destination, his grin spreading jauntily across parts of his face he didn't even know he had.

"If you like that," he said cheerfully, extending his hand, palm up, "You're going to _love_ what I've got in store."

Rose grinned and took his hand, all too happy to be led down the lengthy corridor towards the building. She only made the mistake of looking down the once; it was quite unnerving to see a city down thousands of metres below and feel you weren't standing on anything. Her stomach did a somersault that ended somewhere near her mouth.

"What is this place?" she asked distantly, not being able to take her eyes off the wonderful city.

"Well, strictly speaking I s'pose, this planet is Alpha-17, K-string 13675. But no one calls it that; that's just its name for us space travellers who like to know precisely where we are."

He turned to flash her a grin, but the joke was seemingly wasted on her. Heaving a shrug and looking forwards again, he continued.

"This planet isn't really a planet, you know. It's a moon, of sorts, about half the size of the Earth. Doesn't do very much; just sits here orbiting the lovely little planet Boron. And yes, I know that's an element on your planet Rose, but honestly, you aren't the centre of the universe. Have a little imagination!"

She merely blinked and nodded, her grip on his hand loosening. She was too bowled over by the sheer enormity of the place they were in to really hear what the Doctor was saying. Picking up on her awe, the Doctor smiled to himself and stopped walking. Confirming his theory like the good little ape she was, Rose walked right into him.

"Sorry," she mumbled, suddenly coming back to reality.

He turned to her and grinned.

"S'alright," he reasoned compassionately, letting his gaze fall to her again. "It's all a bit much for you, probably. All you need to know is that this is something like a holiday resort, and you just get to sit back and relax. All expenses paid, do whatever you want, eat whatever you like, visit whomever springs to mind. You've got this entire world at your fingertips, Rose, and me by your side to show it to you."

They stood for a moment looking at each other, happy to do nothing else in the world but that.

"Doesn't get any better than this, does it?" Rose asked eventually, looking away from him and making her way down the corridor again.

The Doctor didn't answer, pretending the question was rhetorical.

At the end of the corridor, however, they were greeted by nothing but the wall of the building. Rose frowned at this, a little put off. But the Doctor simply grinned at her again before tapping his fingers against a keypad in the side and, in front of their eyes, a door slid open.

Rose blinked.

"They're a bit obsessed with doors, aren't they?" she asked laughingly as they stepped through in to a wide, open room.

The carpet was a faded, lush pink, a shade or two deeper than the sky outside. The stone walls were a deep, rich red, and up along their corners there ran hollow, glass tubes, with sparkling water running through them. Lights situated somewhere inside the pipes turned the water different colours of the spectrum every few seconds, creating a feeling of serene calm. It was strange, Rose thought, to watch water run against the force of gravity - but it fit oddly with the surroundings, and she didn't dwell on it too much.

The Doctor, taking a note of her interest in the fascinating pipes, leaned over to talk quietly in her ear.

"That water runs up to the top floor," he explained. "It's pumped all the way up, where it spills out in water fountains. If you take one of the glasses they give you, you can stand and drink it for however long you want. It tastes nothing like Earth water, not one bit. You'll love it."

Rose marvelled at the water, picturing in her mind what the top floor would look like. Even more curiously, she wondered at how the water might taste. The colours it shone made her mind go giddy with imagination.

The room they had walked into was one of many. Hollow archways were set into the stone walls, leading deeper and deeper into the building. To the left of where they had walked in was a lift, and beside it, the floor number. '**One hundred and twelve - arrival floor**' glittered on a golden plaque in large, black letters.

They shuffled through the archways into the next room; it lost its carpet and was replaced by grey-green tiling. The room itself was a large expanse of the hollow building, stretching all the way around to the other side. There were masses of people - though the term is used loosely - bustling to and fro from their arrival rooms, already making their hasty way around the enormous complex. The place reminded Rose somewhat of an airport; bright lights shone down from the ceiling and situated about the place were food vendors, vending machines, tourist attractions, gift shops, information desks and many other things she didn't even recognise.

There were aliens of all shapes and sizes. She spotted a large gang of seven foot tall black leather-skinned bipeds making a loud and joyous move around the room. On each of the shop stalls was one of the oval creatures she recognised from the reception desk; obviously, they were the ones to maintain this place. There was a small family of grasshopper looking people, as well as large gaggles of squealing, female things that looked like oversized lumps of dough. The entire place was filled with the noise of clattering shoes and raised voices, as well as intercom messages over the system; these informed the visitors of where the nearest attractions were, what floor number they were on, and where the nearest help desk might be.

At the mention of a help desk, a rather worried looking couple - humans, Rose was surprised to see - dashed off towards the right.

Some people tugged on large bags of luggage, some on children, some on pets (though, in more than one case, it was impossible to tell quite who was the owner and who was the pet); some walked with rucksacks on their backs and a smile on their face, while some were gallivanting the place in large groups of friends or family.

And some, like the Doctor and Rose, merely walked together hand in hand with no restraints on life to hold them back.

The main area of the building ran a large walkway all around the circumference of the inner building. A few hundred metres away there stood a thick panel of glass, circling a large, inner area of the floor. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that this hollow opening - several hundred feet in diameter - ran all the way down from this floor to the bottom. It was possible to see all the floors right down to the ground below. If Rose had been unnerved in the glass corridor beforehand, this was enough to make her insides feel like a roller coaster park.

"Wouldn't like to fall down there, would you Doctor?" she asked, peering warily down into the depths of the building. She had to stand on tip-toe to see properly as a large, metal railing circled the wall of glass for safety measures.

However, she was surprised when the Doctor didn't reply. She turned casually to look at him. He was hanging back slightly, his face an unnatural shade of pale, his hands set deep into the pockets of his brown trench coat. He was so tense that it showed in his heightened shoulders.

"Not scared of heights, are you Doctor?" Rose teased gently, letting her hands drape over the railing as she leaned back against it.

He refused to meet her eye.

"Well..." he shrugged, his head slightly turned to the side. "I wouldn't say... _scared_... as such..."

Rose's eyes widened with humour and she bit back a smile.

"I get it. 'Healthy respect', yeah?" she replied, echoing his words of earlier that day.

"Oh, you're beginning to understand!" he chirped happily, gaining the courage to look at her again. He flashed her a grin. "Come on, then," he said, holding out his hand. "Can't stand around here all day; there's places to visit! People to see! Food to eat!"

As he pulled her along the rounded path, Rose fell in to an easy step beside him.

"Strangers to kiss?" she added almost hopefully, chancing him a sideways glance.

He looked down at her grinning, a flirtatious eyebrow playing on the upper part of his forehead.

"I think I'm a bad influence on you, you know."

She tightened her hand around his as they laughed and walked past a busy hotdog vendor.

"Nah," she said, shaking her head as their steps fell into an easy rhythm. "Not bad enough for it to make a difference, anyway."

"Then I shall have to try harder," he flirted, giving her a raucous wink. Their fingers linked together and his footsteps quickened with excitement. "Right then, just you wait, Rose Tyler. I am going to give you the best time of your life. Follow me!"

As he weaved his way through the busy, jostling aliens of floor One Hundred and Twelve - which later turned out to be just one of the many arrival floors - with Rose at his side, she made a promise to herself that wherever he went, whatever he did, she would always, always follow.

Except perhaps this once, when, in his distracted excitement, he walked slap bang into an eight-foot signpost.

* * *

Next Chapter...

_**Chapter III - State of Creativity**_

"_You only have to ask, Rose," he had spoken quietly, before his gaze slid slowly up to her again. His face was sincere, void of his usual, comic madness. "I mean it. Just say the word, and I'll do it."_


	3. State of Creativity

**Author's Note**: _What with being a busy bee over the past few weeks and barely getting any time on the Internet, let alone to write, my muse has somewhat evaporated... :-( But I'll keep going, because I loved this storyline to begin with and I have been writing it too long to give up. You never know; it may pick up again._

_I want to make special thanks to all the reviwers who have been dedicated and waiting for my chapters xD In particular to **LarielRomeniel**, **Lady-Mearle**, **evil is live**, **mishy-mo**, and extra so to **Literary Litany** and **Aggie1013** for following not just this but several of my other stories. Also, this chapter is dedicated to _**LunaLovegood5**_ for her sheer excellence. All of my regular reviewers (and those that aren't) are appreciated, but you know... there's only so long an "Author's Note" can get before it's silly._

**Side Note**: The book that is discussed in this chapter is actually fairly similar to and based on a journal I own (only, without the sci-fi stuff. Obviously), so if anyone wants details about it, feel free to PM me.

* * *

**Chapter III - State of Creativity**

* * *

The Doctor bounced on his feet, hitting the innocent button on the wall impatiently. 

"Come _on_," he groaned, willing the lift down by sheer force of will.

"We could take the stairs?" Rose suggested, standing back slightly.

He stepped away from the button and turned to her.

"Rose," he reasoned with a frown, "This place has over six hundred floors. I don't _think_ we can walk that far."

"All right, no need to bite my head off."

Oh, that was good. He'd upset her. He could see it written across her tight face and folded arms.

He relaxed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, casting a weary look to the closed metal doors of the lift again. "I've just wanted to come here for a long time."

Rose leant against the wall and looked at him, smiling only a little.

"You have?"

"Yeah. Course, I only _remembered_ I wanted to come here when your mother said what she did. But this was one of the first places I was gonna take you when we met. And now we're here, so..."

"You want to make every second count?"

He let out a laugh through his nose that might have been taken as a sigh to anyone who wasn't finely attuned to his actions. Of course, to Rose, it was him giving her a soft smile and appreciating her perception.

"Every second," he confirmed, letting his grin loose over his face again. "You never know when the next bullet's going to strike, as they say."

Rose frowned.

"You sure that's what they say, Doctor? Not making things up again?" she teased.

"Me!" He looked almost incredulous. "Me, make things up? You've been around your mother too long."

She reached out and thumped him on the arm laughingly. "Oi!"

He grinned at her rakishly and went to hit her back; but the doors beside them slid open with a ping, and the Doctor hesitated, his hand in mid swing.

At his hesitation, Rose took her chance, grinned up at him and dashed inside the lift.

"Saved by the bell," he commented with a smirk, before following her and cackling manically as he spotted the controls on the wall.

Rather than buttons for the number of the floor, like the sort of thing Rose remembered from Earth, there were tiny levers and dials. Bizarre combinations and colours of switches, knobs, buttons and just about anything else to throw into a control unit. She hoped the Doctor would not be asking her to help - she'd had enough of confusing controls like that in the TARDIS.

However, he seemed to cope just fine on his own and it didn't take them long to start following a track. The lift jerked and shuddered, throwing Rose against the walls. It didn't seem to be happy with simply up and down, but wanted side to side, backwards, forwards, around corners... she felt sick by the time it drew to a stop.

The Doctor turned on his heel to look at her, his grin ecstatic. At the look on her face, he laughed.

"Don't know what you're complaining about. It's no worse than the TARDIS."

"Tell that to my stomach," Rose shot back as the doors slid open. "So, where are we then? Edge of the universe? Monstrous pit of Doom? Land of chips?"

He gave her an odd, amused expression then reached for her hand, leading her out into the room beyond.

"Try 'living room', Rose. Thought you might want to take a look around where we're staying before we start getting ourselves into all sorts of trouble."

"It's not trouble," she pointed out as they walked slowly away from the lift, which immediately slid away back into the ceramic marble wall like it had never been there.

"Oh? And what would you call it?"

Rose turned to him and craned her neck back, grinning into his shoulder. "Bad luck?"

The Doctor laughed as she picked at the curved sofa in the middle of the room, her hand trailing along its white fibre. It felt soft and spongy, not quite gentle enough to sleep on but definitely comfortable. It was angled towards a flat screen television, set firmly into the wall, its remote lying patiently on the circular glass coffee table in the centre of the room. A soft Latin-style music drifted out to the pair, courtesy of the thin speakers positioned in every corner. Rose let her hand slip from the Doctor's, her eyes roaming the walls. Perched here and there were abstract paintings, shades that merged together every colour of the spectrum, creating a perfect feel of ambience in the quaint little room. Rose's gaze fell on something else, a pair of glass sliding doors set into the opposite wall, letting her look into the room beyond.

"Swimming pool?" she asked, turning back to the Doctor with shock. "It has a swimming pool? What the hell's a swimming pool doing in a hotel room?"

He hid a smirk and folded his arms, feigning interest in a large glass cabinet to his left.

"It's got all sorts of things you don't have in _Earth_ hotels. Lots of things... swimming pool, kitchen, bathroom, wine cellar, sauna..." his eyebrows rose suggestively and the smallest, mischievous grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, "... bedroom..."

Rose's head snapped to him instantly, all thoughts about the bizarre room forgotten. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and bit down on her tongue, not quite sure how to take his sudden change in character. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat, like she had just missed a step on the stairs. Was he flirting? He seemed to be flirting.

She didn't get a chance to find out as he shrugged and grinned, burying his hands deep in his pockets. The moment passed.

"D'you like it, then?" he asked casually; but the question was heavily weighted, and Rose got the distinct impression that, for some unfathomable reason, he was out to impress her. So, just to keep him in torture that little bit longer, she took another long look around, eyeing the paintings and the swimming pool and the carpet, too, which shimmered up at them like the sea.

"Yeah..." she sighed exaggeratedly, a cheeky smile playing across her mouth. "I s'pose it's all right."

The Doctor caught her eye.

"All right?" he questioned, appalled, and he sauntered over to her. "I fork out more than I'd pay for the TARDIS' control system, and I get _all right_? Hmph, maybe I won't bother next time."

The grin that was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth was enough to tell her that he was only joking.

"G'wan then," Rose laughed, pushing him affectionately on the arm. "How much d'ya pay?"

He looked at her with feigned wisdom, sucking on his teeth thoughtfully.

"Let's just say... the term 'arm and leg' has never been so accurate..."

His eyes flicked down to her and their gazes locked; before long, he found himself shaking with silent laughter. Both he and Rose let out simultaneous snorts, the laughter beginning to rise up in them like a wave. She had no idea what he was talking about, but the look on his face had been so appealingly serious that she couldn't help but fall about in hysterics. The wave broke over them and they each found themselves helpless with a new strain of giggling fit, the tears of joy stinging unjustly at their eyes.

The Doctor slung an arm loosely around Rose's shoulder as he bit back his barks, letting enough weight fall on her that she stumbled into him.

"Come on, then!" he chirped happily, blinking down at her with his classic disarming grin. "Quick tour: that left door leads to the bathroom, the right one is for the bedrooms, the swimming pool is over there with the sauna not far off, the kitchen's through that door by the TV, the wine cellar's down those stairs, the bar is out that door and 'round the corner, don't even _try_ and drive this lift without me, the remote for the TV is on the coffee table and this _entire_ city is an adventure waiting to happen; SO, you'll excuse me if I say _let's get cracking_!"

He spoke in one long string of words, not even pausing to take a breath. Rose stared at him, quite bewildered, her mind spinning with the load of information she had received in thirty seconds.

"So... that's it, then?" she asked carefully with a raised eyebrow. The Doctor's face fell.

"What's it?"

"No monsters? No devious plan? No cry for help from someone who claims to be legit but ends up luring you into a trap?"

The Doctor looked almost crestfallen.

"That only happened once," he muttered defensively. "And you mean to say that I go out of my way to bring you somewhere and nice and relaxing, and you'd rather be off running away from a Cyberman? Or chasing a Dalek across the galaxy?"

"I didn't say that," Rose countered. "It's jus'... not exactly your style, is it Doctor? All this... _normal_ stuff?"

"Not my style? I think I need to re-educate you as to what my 'style' really entails. And I can do normal," he added reassuringly.

"Nah," she replied, shaking her head and looking up to him. "If I wanted normal I'd still be back at home. You couldn't do normal if it bit you on the nose."

She reached a finger up and poked his nose affectionately - though, whether that was to tell him where his nose was or to prove her point, he wasn't sure.

The Doctor pouted, his face pulled out as if he really were upset.

"Well then. I suppose it's time to educate you. Here begins the lesson, Rose Tyler, in which I'm going to show you what 'normal with the Doctor' is all about. Care to join me?"

He offered his arm and reached for the handle of the door leading out of the room.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, taking it. He grinned down at her.

"That depends if you want to spend the entire day on your own. Come on. You wouldn't believe some of the things that I've got to show you."

And with that, he promptly led her out into the corridor, down the stairs, past the bar and into the adventures beyond. Never mind normal: normal was boring. He could do normal in his sleep. This was something special, he decided.

He was a Time Lord and she was his Lady; and for the moment, that was the most important thing in the world.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

"Hey Toby; 'nother round for the lady!" 

It was busy at the bar. Rose sat on the comfortable, cushioned stool, angled perfectly to the metallic counter. She leant lazily against the chair's back, letting her spine arch against the cool metal. Her neck craned backwards, giving her a wonderful view of the ceiling, and she closed her eyes with the stretch. Recoiling back to her normal position, she leant her elbow on the counter and slumped her head in her hand, twisting to turn to the attentive male beside her.

"No," she slurred with a giggle, waving her free hand sluggishly over the top of her empty glass to stop the barman from refilling it. "No more. The Doctor'll kill me..."

"Aww, c'mon luv," the man to her side persisted, grinning at her devilishly. "Can't let that Doctor've yours rule your life, can ya?"

Rose considered him with an amused raised eyebrow. The man she was sitting next to was almost entirely covered with dark hair, like the shaggiest dog in the world. Rather than hands he had two, pointed claws and from the tangle of his face there blinked out two little, black eyes and a wide, smiling mouth. He had rows and rows of little white teeth and Rose would almost have called him a wild beast – except that he had a heart of gold and a sense of humour to match.

"Nah," she agreed, not moving her hand from the rim of her glass; "Bu' I can't turn up to him all drunk, can I? He'd never take me anywhere else again."

"You're a human, ain'tchya?" he replied, his tangled mass of hair pulling into something that might have been a frown.

She nodded in return.

"This stuff ain't strong enough to even touch ya. And anyways, you seems like a girl who can handle a drink."

The headache beginning to pound in Rose's dizzy head told her otherwise. The taste of the exotic, fruity drink lingered in her mouth and she was tempted to go on drinking, if only to quench her fiery thirst. And at the thought of the Doctor, minor irritation flared up in her like a bee sting.

They'd enjoyed a nice day. The various floors, out of the hundreds that there were, had been widely entertaining. They had ended up in a manufactured reproduction of the classic fairytale city. Bright, golden sun; miles of fabulous trees; a cobbled path leading through a quaint little archaic village, its red-roof tiled buildings accentuating the brown sandstone of the houses; and a wishing well, too, which had been planted on the outskirts of the town. Rose had thrown in an Earth penny, despite the Doctor's complaints that it was all a huge hoax. She merely hid a grin.

There had been a bookshop, too, with tiny aisles and rickety stairs and storeys of floors with shelves spilling over with the most amazing books you could imagine. It was almost like stepping into another world, feeling eerily drawn to just about any text that was there. All sorts of stories and tales were leaking out from the walls themselves and it was a haven for any reader. They had spent a good long time in there, browsing.

Then there had been '**The Imagination Rooms**', as was printed on the plaque of floor six-hundred-and-twelve. This entailed the Doctor and Rose heading into their own separate chambers, where the walls, floor and ceiling were all a brilliant, pure white - but that wasn't so for long. The instructions stated that at the presence of any thought or feeling, the walls would suddenly become alive with colour, the patterns and shades a reflection on the artist's mood at the time.

Rose's hadn't been bad, filled with mostly bright, warm colours that mirrored her feelings on the Doctor and his adventures. The walls had been spattered with bright colours, splashing joyous colours at every angle. She had stepped back when she'd finished, secretly quite impressed with her mind's telling of her feelings towards the Doctor.

But it had been nothing compared to his. Every inch of his room had been decorated with some form of colour or shade, his memories and feelings building up into an explosive picture. It wasn't all bright invitations and warm glows. In fact, these only took up a small portion of his canvas. There were angry, dark reds and thick, fearsome blacks, their strokes mingling together to create an intense feeling of lost fury. There were colours Rose couldn't name, colours she had never even seen before, and so much raw emotion behind every curve and sweep of the envisioned brush that she had felt tears sting in her eyes. She had begged the Doctor to be able to take a photograph, or something to capture its beauty; but he had simply smiled down at her gently, suggesting that perhaps some things were better left in the memory. They had left the floor hand in hand.

It was on more than one occasion that the Doctor's hand had found hers quite naturally, even when he wasn't making a conscious effort. Like when they were queuing for their hot dog at the vendor's for a bit light lunch. Or when his eyes were surfing the higher shelves in the bookshop and he got the feeling she might be restless. Or after they had visited the Imagination Rooms, where Rose had been a little distraught and he had wound his arm around hers, finding her hand and comforting her, telling her that it was all right. Or in the lift between times, when he would stand for a moment just _looking_ at her, without making any move towards the controls.

They had chatted, too. Joked and laughed together like the best friends they were: Rose about her favourite and worst memories, the Doctor about some of the bizarre places he had been. She had wondered, upon hearing about them, if he'd ever take her there, despite already having been himself. She didn't even get the chance to ask. They had been sitting on a wooden bench at the time, opposite each other, and after talking about places he had been before, he'd reached across the table and taken her hand in his.

He had let their gazes lock for a second before looking down to his plate of chips (which were, incidentally, more like lumps of coal than anything to do with a potato. Rose tactfully avoided eating them).

"You only have to ask, Rose," he had spoken quietly, before his gaze slid slowly up to her again. His face was sincere, void of his usual, comic madness. "I mean it. Just say the word, and I'll do it."

She had blinked back to him mutely, sure he had been talking about the places he'd been before. But the smallest, most inquisitive part in her wasn't so sure. Do what? it questioned. However, before she'd got a chance to really think about it, he'd swung his legs out and pulled her to her feet, leading her off to yet another fabulous floor in the building - a theatre, as it turned out. Putting on the most awful musical Rose had ever heard.

Quite how it was dubbed 'music', she never found out: it sounded more like cats screeching against the backdrop wail of a screaming child. But she didn't complain for a second, because all the way through the performance, the Doctor's hand had rested on hers, his palm on top, his fingers over her knuckles. She had, if she were honest, spent more time sneaking looks at him out of the corner of her eye than watching whatever was happening on the stage. He looked so appealing in his glasses, serious face engraved deep into his features, and so still he looked as though he were made of stone. It had been quite enchanting.

Their earlier conversation had flickered into her mind, and she had almost asked, right then, what it was exactly that he would do for her. She'd held her breath, question poised at the tip of her tongue – but then she'd let it go, just like every other time.

However, that had been a good few hours ago. After drifting back through the sea of sightseers, they had stopped at the bottom of the square stairs by the bar below their room. The Doctor had hovered his hand over the small of her back, his fingers brushing the five points of a star, gently enticing her up the stairs with the explanation that there was something he had had to do and that he'd be 'back in a bit'.

Rose glanced at her watch, pulling her hand away from the cheek it was supporting. It was useless for actually telling the time, she knew, but for a measure of how long the Doctor was gone? It was perfect.

About an hour and forty-four minutes. Not that she was counting. He should be back by now, nonetheless. It wasn't fair for him to just dump her here, pawn her off to the rough bar members, and come back whenever he wanted, especially not when she didn't have anywhere else to go. The irritation continued to flare.

Her gaze drifted back up to the hair-covered alien, who had christened himself Rayne.

"Oh, go on then," she sighed, giving in. She removed her hand from the chunky glass, into which the barman promptly poured a mixture of swirling orange and yellow sludge. Picking it up, Rose tentatively sniffed at its contents, the spicy aroma already lifting to meet her. She took a gulp, long and thirsty, the texture of it like pulverised fruit.

"Never seen a 'uman take so well to Huly before," Rayne growled as he watched her. "I'm impressed."

Swallowing her mouthful, Rose wiped at some stray juice that had leaked from her lips.

"I thought you said it wouldn't touch me?"

"Well, not the effects," Rayne admitted with a small shrug. "But it's still strange to see you even _like_ the stuff. I was under the impression you lot didn't have the stomach for that sort of drink."

A memory instantly flickered into her mind like an old film reel; the Doctor, her old Doctor, introducing her to a powerful liquor he claimed was from his own planet. They had sat in the console room, clinking their glasses and silently toasting each other, before each taking a swig. The spirit had burned like fire in her mouth and her eyes had watered, stung with the sudden inflammation. She had choked and spluttered whilst the Doctor had just grinned smugly and sat there, sipping contentedly at his own glass, his hazy blue eyes on her all the time. He'd tried to hide the smirk of his manic face, but had had to laugh with Rose when she burst into snorts of laughter.

He had also, he told her shortly afterwards, been impressed when she continued to drink the stuff. Even some of the Time Lords had found it too strong. She answered with a shrug, suggesting perhaps she was just better at handling it than others. He'd blinked at her slowly then, his face suddenly slipping into an unreadable expression. He had then looked her right in the eye, bringing his small shot glass down to rest in his lap. She'd swallowed the last of her fire-like liquor and watched as his eyes roamed her face before coming back to her again, his smile completely faded. And then he'd told her, outright, that she was better at most things than anyone else he had ever met. Ever.

She blamed the blush that had burned at her cheek on the alcohol. Her eyes dropped down to her glass, wondering if he'd realised what he said. When she'd looked up again, he was sitting closer beside her on the side bench, still watching. He'd reached out to lower the glass bottle between them to the floor before sliding along the bench towards her, his hand coming to a rest on hers. The look in his eye had been something she'd never seen before. Dark. Possessive. Intense. It went well with that leather jacket of his. And Rose still blamed the alcohol.

She went on blaming it when he began to lean towards her, calling it her dizzy, stupid mind. She blamed it when her heart began to race and when her hands began to sweat. She blamed it when he came so close, his shoulder brushed against hers. She even blamed it when his blue eyes, so sure and concentrated when they were on her, suddenly shifted down to her lips, then back again. Quick and subtle, but definitely there. It continued to take the blame whilst his thumb tenderly stroked the back of her hand and he shifted his body so close to hers their noses touched.

The heat coming from him had almost been enough to burn her. She had been sure it was the alcohol pounding through her veins when the fingertips of his other hand reached tentatively up to dance along her arm, grazing softly up and down her soft skin. He had groaned her name seductively, his breath tingling her skin, the alcohol taking the blame for the husky tone in his voice. It took the blame for the shiver that had run all the way from her lips to his fingertips, too. He had been so close against her that she was inhaling his breath, his scent; she couldn't stop herself. It was only when his hand gently curled around her arm and his lips moved to hover just millimetres from her own that she began to realise perhaps it wasn't the liquor after all. Perhaps this was all really happening. Every, single, heart-stopping second.

Then Jack had bounded in and asked what they were up to, completely stealing the moment. The Doctor's head had snapped up like he'd been caught sneaking cannabis by the police and, despite the circumstances, he had grinned disarmingly, apparently happy to see that the American had spotted them. He'd moved away from Rose in a quick instant, like he'd been stung, and lowered himself to pull out the liquor bottle, waving it enticingly under the Captain's nose. Jack had glanced between them, a grinning, mischievous eyebrow raised, and he had questioned the Doctor's motives for bringing the drink out. Only Rose noticed the slight redness in the Doctor's ears as he pretended to flirt with the other man, saying it was all a lure to get _their_ first drink out of the way. She also noticed, as the three of them sat together sharing a drink and laughing about the universe, that he refused to meet her eye.

It was shortly after that, a few hours at most, that they had all been pulled into the tricks of the Game Station on Satellite Five. The place where Jack had died, Rose had saved the world and the Doctor had left her; to return to her in his new form, surprising her once again. Fate had obviously been playing a cruel game that day.

"Lassie?" the voice of Rayne sliced through her pandemonium of thoughts.

She shot upright and blinked, the memories of the Doctor's breath on hers fading fast. That had been a long time ago and he hadn't brought it up since. She had almost forgotten.

"What...?" she asked confusedly, feeling every so slightly dizzy. Rayne looked at her with worry in his dark eyes.

"Ya just looked like you'd fallen asleep there, tha's all. I'd 'ardly call meself up to date with you 'umans, bu' it certainly seemed like something that weren't s'posed to 'appen. You all right?"

"Yeah," Rose replied quickly, finding her mouth dry. "Yeah, I'm just a bit... I think that drink got to me, s'all."

Rayne tried his best to hide an amused smile, and Rose was grateful for it.

"Aye, I've heard that ole Huly can 'ave that effect. Say n'more."

He twisted in his chair to address the barman, who was down at the other end of the counter.

"Toby!" he roared in a voice that shocked most of the guests, including those who sat innocently eating their evening meals. Rose buried her head in her arms: this guy was worse than the Doctor when it came to tact.

The bartender, his greasy, grimy towel still slung over his shoulder, turned.

"Something for the li'l lady's nerves," Rayne continued loudly, not caring that he was being stared at. "If ya catch my drift."

Toby cast a wary glance to Rose before nodding and disappearing into a back room, much to the dismay of his other customers. He returned a few minutes later with a large pitcher of sparkling, yellow liquid, which looked suspiciously alike to what it might end up being at the end of Rose's body cycle – apart from the bright, electric blue bubbles that were fizzing downwards, creating a thick foam at the bottom of the jug.

Rose watched with some reservation as the green skinned, orange eyed Toby poured out a neat little glass of this before placing it in front of her. Whilst Rayne was momentarily distracted, he caught her eye and smiled kindly, leaning over to her and lowering his voice.

"I prefer to be called Tobias, if it ever comes to it. But with this sort of job, I guess the customer's always right. Have a good night."

He smiled again, and then wandered back up to the other end of the bar, leaving Rose to stare again at the frankly off-putting drink. Perhaps she should have stuck with the cocktails.

"You goin' to drink it through your eyes, or what?" Rayne laughed affectionately, watching her with a wide smile. She looked up to his face, his tall build slumped lazily over the counter beside her. Her gaze drifted reluctantly back to the glass, which had already acquired its own level of froth.

"It tastes of… ah… what d'you humans call 'em… Lemons! Yeah, tha's it, lemons. Never had a 'lemon' before, mind: I jus' hear tha's how it tastes."

Rose frowned down towards the little tumbler questionably, which was now beginning to fizz rather energetically. It reminded her of one of her chemistry experiments in school gone horribly wrong.

"You're kidding," she breathed sceptically. Rayne shook his head. "Ah, well," she shrugged, reaching a hand out and curling it around the glass - should she be put off that it was warm? "When in Rome…"

She had only risen the glass about an inch or two off the counter when there came heavy footsteps thundering up the stairs behind her. Rose cringed. Somehow, she had a feeling that that was -

"Rose, don't you _dare_ drink that!"

She turned in time to see the Doctor striding purposefully from the stairs across the bar, his trench coat billowing out behind him like some sort of ridiculous cape; he barely seemed to notice that all eyes turned to look at him. He waltzed past her and stood, quite intimidatingly, over Rayne, his hands on his hips and his face a sculptured battleground of ire. He reminded Rose so much of an annoyed mother that she had to bite down on her lips to stop herself from laughing.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at, giving that to her?" he spat piercingly, jerking his head angrily towards the drink in Rose's hand. He turned, took it out of her grasp and spun back, his eyes blazing with anger. "I assume you know what this does to humans?"

"I'm guessing you're this 'Doctor' bloke she's been going on about," Rayne replied, not even in the least bit sheepish at having the tall man, shaking with anger, leaning over him. He seemed almost sneering, actually.

The Doctor slammed the drink down on the counter, spilling it everywhere, before leaning forwards, his face dangerously close to Rayne's. His brown eyes were flecked with a dark rage and his gleaming teeth were almost bared.

"Yes, I am," he returned curtly through clenched, bitter teeth. "And if you ever so much as come _near_ her again, I will rip you apart, hair by hair. Understood?"

Rayne's dark eyes darted over to Rose before looking boldly back to the Doctor.

"Oh, come on mate," he practically laughed with contempt. "She was more than up for it."

The Doctor's blazing eyes reached climax and he brought his head up, all but snarling at the creature in front of him.

"I'll give you _ 'mate_'," he hissed, his face twisting with a rage that had sprung up from nowhere. "You are _seriously_ close to seeing me very angry; I suggest you leave now, if you want your reproductive organs in tact by the end of the night."

Rayne's eyes narrowed and his clawed hand tapped on the surface irritably.

"Big words for a man whose girl is a whore."

"That's enough Raynor," barked Tobias loudly from his elbow. He had sneaked up whilst the argument was going on and was now cleaning a glass roughly with his calloused hand. His large, orange eyes were watching the two of them suspiciously.

Rayne swung his head around to look the bartender in the eye.

"This is the guy who's causing the problem," he countered, raising a steely claw in the Doctor's direction.

"He's not the one who just swore in front of the customers," Tobias replied pointedly, his voice calm but firm. He had obviously had to deal with this before. "I think it's about time you called it a night and headed home - you've had enough to drink, and regulations say I won't be serving you any more."

"But - "

"I mean it Raynor. Out."

Raynor's head snapped between the Doctor and Tobias before he shrugged lazily, slid off the seat and made his way out of the bar, muttering something about stupid tourists and over protective boyfriends.

"Honestly!" the Doctor scoffed loudly after watching him go. "Some people just have _no_ manners; it's like he doesn't even notice the entire room is watching him!"

A deadly hush fell over the bar and Rose let out a small cough, raising an eyebrow towards the Doctor; he had, for the moment, slunk into Raynor's unoccupied chair and was now helping himself noisily to a bowl of what she assumed - and hoped - were peanuts.

He looked up, his mouth mid chew.

"What?" he asked, completely bemused.

Rose cast a pointed look around the room, where all eyes were fixed to look at him. Tobias was still stood at their side, but he was smirking good-naturedly.

The Doctor finally realised what it was she was getting at.

"Oh, let them look," he shrugged, reaching for another one of his not-quite-a-peanuts. "I'm easier on the eyes than that clown ever was. And as for you, Miss Tyler; I'm going to have to start chaining you to the TARDIS at this rate. Stop picking up boys!"

Rose couldn't help but grin as a number of the customers disappeared behind their menus with suppressed snorts of laughter. As the clatter of conversation and atmosphere began to build again, she found herself smiling at her Doctor. She had been touched and, quite honestly, a little stunned at his reaction to Rayne. But she was pleased and warmed that he seemed to care about her so much.

Not being a man of rudeness when it wasn't necessary, the Doctor looked up to the barkeeper and smiled to him.

"Thanks for the help with old hairy-legs back there," he offered, reaching his arms over the bar to shake the man's hand. "I'm the Doctor. And you are?"

"Tobias," he replied with a small cough, quickly taking the Doctor's proffered hand. "Tobias Finley."

"Well then, Tobias Tobias Finley, I owe you my thanks. Though you really should have known better with that tonic. You're the bartender, aren't you? Would have thought you'd have known its effects on humans."

"I do," Tobias answered, his voice only just edging on terse. "But I assumed the young lady here already knew, too. Evidently, I was wrong - but you'll have to excuse me, sir; I have other customers."

He wasn't rude as he spoke, Rose thought. Just distracted. Her eyes slid down to the bubbling mixture on the surface, which was beginning to make her feel rather sick.

"See you then, Toby!" he Doctor chirped brightly, reaching for another not-a-peanut and watching the alien walk away.

"He doesn't like 'Toby'," Rose commented absently, her gaze distracted by the entrancing bubbles.

"Does he not? He should have said."

Rose frowned. "He did. To me. Anyway, look, Doctor... what _is_ that?"

She motioned towards the glass.

The Doctor crunched down on his textured snack and licked his lips before answering, swinging his legs from side to side.

"It's a drink, Rose," he pointed out and grinned at the 'I-knew-that-you-idiot' expression that fell across her face. "A dangerous drink, at that. It sort of has the same effect as the aphrodisiacs you get on Earth, only multiplied about ten times. It's basically a drink to get you into bed, willing or not. Why it hasn't been banned yet, I don't know. But it makes you pretty much want to... dance the night away with anyone you see. Everyone, in fact. Hit it with the right mood and the right person, it tastes absolutely fantastic and you're perfectly happy to be mesmerised by the effects. Tricked into drinking it, as you nearly were, and, well... You can guess what would have happened." He paused and looked to her. "I'm sorry, have I said too much?"

While he was busy yammering on about the drink, avoiding her eye and stuffing I'm-a-peanut-reallies into his mouth, Rose's cheeks had flushed a deep, low red and she had looked away, biting her lip. She wished she hadn't asked.

"So that's why you... wanted to stop me drinking it?" she asked shyly, chancing a look at his loose figure out of the corner of his eye.

He swallowed his mouthful thoughtfully, his face pulled only into a slight frown as he gazed at the counter.

"Well yes; I seem to like it when my companions aren't intoxicated with hormones that make them want to breed like rabbits."

"Oh."

Her cheeks flushed further. The Doctor had the gall to grin and flash her a cheeky wink.

"Course, that's not the _only_ reason. In large quantities, it's been proved to be lethal to humans. You may not have noticed, but you really are rather more useful when you're alive."

"Oh," she repeated with a sigh, slumping back into the chair. "...He seemed so nice. Guess I'm not a good judge of character."

The Doctor raised a distasteful eyebrow.

"It takes practice, Rose. Besides, I'm sure he's _lovely_ when he's not eyeing up my friend like a piece of meat."

"He was _not_," she replied indignantly. The Doctor snorted.

"When you're fully up-to-date with your Amank knowledge of signals and signs, _then_ you can tell me whether or not he was eyeing you up. Until then, you're just going to have to take my word for it, I'm afraid."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope!" he grinned cheerfully. "Glad you cottoned on."

There was a few moments' silence, in which the Doctor turned in his seat to try and attract Tobias' attention. But the young alien was heavy in conversation with a muscle-bound, leathery biped. He thought it was probably best to leave him to it; his dry throat would have to wait.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Where did you go off to this afternoon?"

He turned and blinked at her, his mind temporarily stuck in its own rift. That afternoon... he had... oh, that's right. And he'd been away longer than he meant to.

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to be gone so long. Mind you, you didn't have to go and get yourself noticed by someone who wanted to drug you."

"It's not my fault you swanned off an left me."

"I didn't swan!" the Doctor protested loudly, looking at her indignantly. "There was no swanning! I just had to go somewhere for a moment, and you couldn't come with me."

"Sounds like swanning to me," Rose muttered grumpily, shrugging back into the seat.

"I can guarantee you, there were no swans involved. No parrots, puffins, sparrows or seagulls, either... actually, there may have been seagulls. I can't quite remember. Not that they're called seagulls here, considering there's no - "

"Doctor!" Rose snapped almost irritably. He blinked innocently back at her, his dark eyes suddenly becoming concentrated.

"Yes, Rose?" His voice was sickeningly sweet.

She raised an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips.

"Oh, all right," he conceded at last, smiling. She had earned this. "Here."

Grinning widely, his mouth hanging open as if it had a life of its own, he reached inside the depths of his brown jacket. Rose was just beginning to wonder if his coat had eaten his arm when he pulled out what he had been looking for.

In his hand he held a thick, hard cover book. It was wider than it was tall, its colour an off-white. Its smart, new spine was just under half an inch thick and the cover was decorated beautifully. There were patterns, swirling around each other like a whirlpool, a shade or two darker than the cover itself, giving the book an aged sort of look that suited it well, despite it's newness. The front was decorated with a watermarked valley scene, framed with trees, and in the bottom right corner was a single, pale pink rose; its stem curled along the base and side of the cover, entwining its long roots with the patterns. Just left of the centre, above the hills of the valley, were words, beautifully drawn out in dark calligraphy: 'To see but a star in the universe, simply look to me'. It was capturing.

Rose sat, her eyes locked on the elegant book, her mouth actually hanging open with wonder at the sight of it. She was drawn to it, like iron filings to a magnet.

Slowly, carefully, the Doctor slid the book into her hands, where she couldn't help but caress the enchanting cover. It was smooth against her skin, almost velvety. After a moment or two, she curled her fingertips around the edge of the cover and pulled it open, the newness of the spine creaking slightly in the silence between them. Her eyes fell on the opening page, which was printed with information about the publishers of the book and the artist of the pictures.

"It's a diary," the Doctor explained, watching her reaction carefully. "Well, it's sort of a diary. More like a journal, really. Except, well... it's a place where you can record your memories onto the pages. Somewhere you can access them at any time. Only, not written. You do it with your mind. Oh, I'm not explaining this very well, am I? Always was useless at this sort of thing. Right, just say you pick a memory. Any one you like. You can... transfer... it to the book, and it will be kept forever, stored in its pages until you want to open it up and look again. Think of it as sort of spilling your memories out into a place that can hold them for you. It has infinite space; you can keep as many or few memories in there as you want. No restrictions."

His voice was floating to her, enveloping her like a soft cloud. She felt cushioned and happy as his soft words flowed around her, drowning her in a sea of language. Her eyes were busy taking in the beauty of the unused diary. Its pages were not like the sort of paper she remembered from other diaries she'd had; it was more like a thick parchment, slightly coarse to the touch. Every now and then, through the journey of pages, there would be a small scene of artwork embroidered into the page, its border filled with striking, mystic runes. There were more phrases and sayings, too, about changing the world with a simple touch and listening to your heart when it speaks to you. The author had taken to adapting calligraphic waves of a brush to merge the pictures and scenery with the carefully painted letters, making each page looking like an almost-filled canvas.

The Doctor was still rambling when Rose began to listen, her eyes still down on the pages but her mind finely attuned to his.

"You can imprint feelings to the pages, too. Connect them to the memories. You can actually _feel_ them when you're reliving whatever memory you've chosen. It's just... I remembered you eyeing a diary in the bookshop, saying that you thought you might start it up again. So I thought I'd go one better. And, I thought you might like it because, well, it's got a rose on the front and those quotes seem like the sort of thing you... like..."

He hesitated, taking a breath and looking at her intently. She hadn't said a word, hadn't even looked at him - she was just leafing slowly through the pages, one by one, her eyes soaking up the gorgeous layout.

At last, after what felt like too much of an eternity to endure, her head came up and she looked at him. Properly looked at him. He was surprised to see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. It was subtle; to anyone else, she may have just looked slightly overtired. But to him, it was a look that he had long come to recognise as overwhelming gratitude.

"Do you like it?" he asked tentatively, his voice quiet.

Rose, quite overwhelmed with this touching emotion, was unable to say anything. Instead, she brushed the book's cover lovingly and nodded, swallowing down the lump of rising feeling in her throat. It was just a journal, after all; it wasn't like he had just professed his undying love for her. Not that she wanted that, she reminded herself quickly.

"Yeah," she finally choked out, ashamed that her voice sounded to ashen. The Doctor tilted his head to one side and gave her a soft smile.

"There's more. I thought, just in case you had trouble getting used to it, you might like a head start. A tutorial, if you like."

She frowned at him, a little confused. At her look, he grinned and plucked the diary from her hands, turning to the first page. Even as she looked at it, it seemed to shimmer before her, like someone had coated it in a silvery varnish. He turned the book to face her, pushing the open pages towards her. Supporting the book's spine with one hand, his fingers splayed artistically over the covers, he reached over to take her hand. Guiding it gently towards the open page, he let her fingertips graze lightly over the sheet.

"Watch," he told her gently and the word sent a shiver down her spine.

Rose had been sat there little more than a few seconds when suddenly, an image burst into her mind. Almost like watching a cinema, the gloomy basement of Henrik's just over a year or so before faded into her mind's eye. She watched herself come into focus against the wall, Autons surrounding her. She felt an arm extend towards herself, felt the feel of a hand that touched another's. She watched her own head turn, startled, and heard the word that forever changed her life, his voice surprisingly calm. And as they ran together, the Doctor leading her, Rose felt a mass of feelings hit her all at once. Excitement. Joy. Fear. A hint of contempt. It was just a few seconds' memory, but it felt like the only thing she had ever known.

Rose's eyes snapped open, the memory fading. She withdrew her hand from the book, and thus the Doctor's gentle hold on her fingers, blinking at him as she did so.

"That was... we were... you're telling me that was... us?" She stumbled over the words like her first steps.

The Doctor smiled and closed the journal, placing it delicately on the counter.

"My memory of the first time we met, yes," he confirmed with a nod. The hand that had led her towards the book closed around her fingers, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "With my feelings at the time included. Or at least, how I remember feeling."

Rose looked down to their joined hands, his fingers curled around her palm.

"You were annoyed," she stated matter-of-factly, bringing her head up again. His shining eyes kept on her. "You were definitely annoyed in that basement."

The Doctor laughed, and squeezed her hand gently.

"You mean amongst the excitement of helping someone personally for the first time for as long as I could remember?" he commented wryly. "Yes, I was slightly annoyed at the time. You'd got in my way; you were just someone I ended up having to rescue; just another stupid ape. How was I to know?"

She didn't know whether to be offended or touched. He hadn't used that expression in such a long time that a thrill ran through her in response to all the memories it brought up. His last incarnation had taken to calling her 'his stupid ape' when he was feeling affectionate. It hadn't happened very often, but whenever he said it, she's always been pleased to be thought of as 'his'. Her heart was, after all - why not the rest of her?

"So I was - " Rose began, but the Doctor cut her off at the irritable tone in her voice.

"No, Rose, you weren't just another stupid ape," he interrupted slightly tersely. "Of course you weren't. I'll never be happier for the day you got yourself locked in a basement with megalomaniac plastic and I stumbled across you." His voice softened, his eyes sparkling with honesty. "I've never regretted meeting you. Even at the time, when I had no idea of your strength and courage, I didn't regret it. There was something about you that was just... Oh, I don't know. You were... you. Even as an ape, you stood out. That's why I asked you to come with me. Why I'll never stop asking you, in fact. Call it selfish, but you're just too good to share."

He had dropped her hand by now and reached for the bowl of nuts again. He was speaking slowly, in a resigned tone, as if he were giving her a lecture from a textbook that he knew to be wrong. He wasn't even looking at her. But Rose didn't mind. What he'd just said was more than she had ever imagined hearing from the Doctor. Raw honesty was just not his style.

Rose slid off the barstool. Before the Doctor could ask what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and reached up to kiss him lightly and quickly on his cheek. He didn't even have the time to bring his arms around her to return the hug; she was back in her seat and examining the book again in no time. The place where her lips had touched his cheek tingled slightly, as if he could still feel her there. He resisted the temptation to put a hand up to check.

"What was that for?" he all but blurted out. He then frowned, wondering why his voice had sounded almost offended.

Rose cast a quick look up to him before letting the journal grab her attention again.

"Dunno. It was just a thank you, I guess."

"What for?"

Rose thought about this, her eyes kept firmly on the pages of the book. She couldn't let him see her blush. What for? For bringing her here, for inviting her into the TARDIS, for showing her the universe, for not pushing questions he knew she didn't want to answer, for being himself, for keeping up a good stock of chocolate whenever she wanted it, for looking at her in the way he did... there were too many reasons. She didn't know.

Instead of offering these, she closed the book and held it up in front of him, looking him in the eye. "I don't know. For this. For all of it, yeah? Showing me the universe, what it's all about. That sorta thing."

The Doctor shifted in his seat, only slightly aware of the tinge in Rose's cheeks.

"Well, that's a Time Lord's job. Teach unsuspecting people about the ways of the universe; what else can I do? It's not as if I can just sit there and let all this information and adventure rot, is it?"

She licked her lips quickly, giving a small sigh.

"I s'pose not," she agreed resignedly. Well, so much for that. "So... that's what you do, then? You just... teach?"

The Doctor frowned for a moment, considering the way she had pronounced 'just'. He made to answer, but changed his mind and shut his mouth. Instead, he leant his elbow on the surface of the bar and rested his chin on a loose fist, sucking his teeth contemplatively. When he eventually spoke again, his voice seemed tired and thoughtful: almost sad. It was the sort of tone he adopted when speaking to himself.

"Oh, I dunno," he sighed, watching Rose from the corner of his eye. "Maybe that _is_ all I'm doing. Carting you off 'round the universe to... _teach_ you. But then, why would I come here? This place isn't renowned for its... educational values. No, this is something else; something different. I started out wanting to teach you, yes. Wanted to take you with me, show you how it all worked, how everything added up. You so wanted to learn, and it's not as if anyone else was there to do it. But then something... changed. Somewhere along the line, teaching just... evaporated. Now all I want to do is..."

He trailed off, lost in the world of his own little monologue. His inner thoughts had merely become vocal, and he'd almost forgotten that Rose was even there, sitting next to him.

"Is what, Doctor?" her voice asked through his collection of thoughts. He blinked himself back to reality before letting his gaze lock with hers.

He sat up, a realisation suddenly dawning on him. "Share," he finished abruptly.

"What?"

"That's it! I don't want to _teach_ it, Rose," he repeated, his face breaking into an ever broadening smile. "I want to share it. With you."

It would not be a lie to say that she was flattered. All the aliens in the universe he could smuggle off in his blue box of time, and he wanted to share it with her. That had to be something.

However, he suddenly bounced off the seat and stared down at her, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"Speaking of sharing, that reminds me. We'll be late if we don't hurry. Can't miss the appointment you know."

He tapped his nose slyly, as if she were in on a joke he had made. Then, grinning, the Doctor seized Rose's hand and pulled her up, while at the same time reaching for her journal and pocketing it.

Her smile echoed his own, and she laughed. He was back in his 'giddy school boy on a sugar high' phase.

"Late? Late to what?"

"Ah, you'll have to wait and see, won't you?" the Doctor beamed, the manic part of his personality taking over. "Come on, chop chop. I haven't got all day."

He laughed suddenly, loudly, as they walked away together, another extension of the joke she didn't get. He led her across the carpeted floor of the bar to the straight staircase and down to the main area of the floor. The bar, it turned out, was a personal little place for the residents of the rooms they were staying in. There would be many of them on this floor, she was told, each to accommodate for the visitors.

As they walked slowly through the throng of late afternoon tourists, the Doctor was warmed to feel Rose's arm slip around his waist. He smiled to himself, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to him. The closeness was definitely something he had missed, he decided, ever since his regeneration. It was nice to feel he was regaining her trust. Perhaps that was partly why he'd brought her here, he wondered idly. Why he'd always wanted to bring her here.

He let his fingers tickle the top of her shoulder distractedly as they made their way towards the lift again. Maybe after all this was over, she would cheer up. Be his Rose again. Maybe she would laugh and smile and take his hand, happy to share in what he could show her. Maybe she would even teach him a thing or two, as well.

The smile on the Doctor's face was subtle as they walked. But it was there. Like all small changes in the beginning of a revelation - it was there.

* * *

Next Chapter...

_**Chapter IV - Stolen**_

"_We can't stay," he answered quietly while they walked, his expression shallowed. "I know I said we could, but we can't. Something's come up."_

"_What kind of something?"_

_The Doctor looked to Rose with a hollowed look in his eyes, a sort of wary disappointment she had not seen in a long time._

"_It's the TARDIS," he sighed worriedly._


	4. Stolen

**Author's Note**: **WARNING** – Long Chapter Alert. Well, perhaps it will make up for the delay... I feel a little sheepish about that, but what with losing my inspiration and generally being fairly busy, time slipped away from me. Still... it _is_ long... and hopefully not rambly. So – forgive me:D

As always, thanks to those of you who reviewed. It is always nice seeing new faces in things I write, especially if you enjoyed it enough to say so! Thank you, so much :) All of you. Seriously, if I sat here and named all of you, this note would be far too long; which I think it already is.

Oh, and this chapter is definitely a T. Very T. Without spoiling it, those of you in the younger department might want to shield your eyes. And take it into account that no, I haven't gone crazy, and it is very much part of the storyline. Anyway, enough from me. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter IV - Stolen**

**

* * *

**

The Doctor's real appointment, as it turned out, didn't have a time limit on it. What he had been keener to get to beforehand had been the sunsets on the top floor.

This floor, which was mostly out in the open, had given them a view of three beautiful sunsets: the suns were touching the horizon line in three different places, pulling the city into a dreamy sleep. Deep, tired colours bruised the sky, each of the suns creating its own ending effects to the day. There were pinks, oranges, reds, purples, blues, greens... hazy mixtures of the most gorgeous things Rose had ever seen. One or two clouds were silhouetted thinly against the backdrop of colours, darkening with the fading light.

Right above them, where the shining lights of the suns were beginning to die, there had been a rich, dark blue, almost black. Across its borderlines danced a hazy array of yet more colours, sparkling like the Northern Lights. The view had been quite spectacular. She and the Doctor had stood up there together, drinking out of thin champagne flutes. The drink itself had been the water from the pipes Rose had first noticed in the reception area, and its tangy sweetness was enough to make her mouth explode with flavour.

The Doctor had spoken a little of Gallifrey, too, which had set a quiet atmosphere over the two when he'd finished. Little snippets here and there, bits and pieces from his past. Though Rose had enjoyed listening to what he'd said, she hadn't really had anything evocative to say, so she'd kept pretty quiet. The visit had ended when the three suns had set, tearing away their dying light from the sky.

Emptying his glass, the Doctor had reached for her hand and held her gaze with a charming grin, his eyes glittering softly in the burning light.

"Hello," he'd spoken softly, much like he had after his regeneration.

She had smiled back, sipping the last out of her glass. "Hi, Doctor."

After a moment or two in silence, he had given the horizon line one last look, then dropped her hand to stretch.

"Right, come on," he had groaned thinly while he arched his shoulders.

"Time to go?" Rose questioned, knowing him all too well. He grinned at her.

"That's the one! Can't stand around up here all day. Sunsets only last so long. Besides, there's something much more exciting to come yet."

Anticipation getting the better of her, Rose simply beamed as the Doctor took her hand again and led her back to the lift, starting their journey back to the depth of the building. You'd have thought that, with the amount of practice he had acquired from the TARDIS, his controlling skills would have improved. This was not so.

"You're gettin' so much better at that," Rose muttered sarcastically, clutching her stomach fearfully.

"If you think you could do better, I would just _love_ to see you try," the Doctor retorted good-naturedly as the door slid open, revealing an expansive room. There were strange domes scattered about everywhere, their fierce black doors shining out like angry teeth. "We'd probably end up in the far stretches of outer space before you admitted that I could beat you."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" he questioned back innocently.

"We spend most of our time in the far stretches of outer space, Doctor."

"Six words, Rose. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. I have a time machine - what's your excuse?"

"I haven't done anything yet!" she protested, as if her hypothetical crime had already been carried out.

"Notice the 'yet'," the Doctor grinned brightly. "Besides, this is a ridiculous conversation; these lifts don't have the capacity for outer space."

"See?" Rose stuck her tongue out.

"Oh, that's very mature," he snorted in return, taking her by the elbow and pulling her out of the lift. "Try that one on the next pretty boy we come across, see if he doesn't just _leap_ on you."

She opened her mouth, appalled. "That's not fair. 'S'not _my_ fault that guy wanted to feed me that drink."

The Doctor turned and grinned to her mischievously, their footsteps tapping loudly on the tiled floor as they walked.

"Who said I was talking about him? I could run up a list, if you want. I could call it 'all the boys Rose has met on our adventures'."

"Doctor, I swear, if you even - "

"Let's see... first there was Mickey. But he didn't really count, because, well. Look at 'im."

Rose stopped and frowned, her hands on her hips. The Doctor knew he was facing a wrath worse than that of Jackie Tyler, but he couldn't stop himself now he'd started; the priceless look on her face was just too much to pass up on.

"Then there was Adam - you remember him, don't you Rose? Picked him up from Van Statten's because he gave you those puppy dog eyes. Didn't believe it for a minute, myself. Can't imagine what you saw in him."

"I didn't see _any_- " she protested, but the Doctor went on nonetheless.

"Course, he turned out to be a bit of a nutter, didn't he? And after we plonked him back on Earth, what do you go and do? Find yourself a nice little Time Agent from several thousand years in your future. Not that Jack didn't have his uses."

"You were so jealous when he kept hittin' on me," Rose giggled, remembering him and momentarily forgetting the Doctor's game. He swung to her, an incredulous look on his face.

"I was _not_," he defended hotly. "I just don't see the use in a companion who's too googly eyed to do any work."

"Oh yeah? Did you _see_ your last incarnation Doctor, or did you conveniently happen to miss it?"

"I said 'companion'," he grumbled with an air of self-importance. "And those were just the people you brought on board. Let's not forget Domnic - "

" - He needed my help! - "

" - Ryan - "

" - My cell warden - "

" - That kid from 1920. Freddie - "

" - Doctor, he was _eight_ - "

"Excuses, excuses," the Doctor grinned teasingly. "Honestly Rose, the list goes on. It's a wonder you're still alive what with all the attention you attract!"

"You're one to talk," she snorted in protest, pleased at finally being able to get a word in edgeways. "It's not like you haven't had your fair share!"

"Name _one_," he replied triumphantly with a grin.

Rose thought about this for a moment with a small smile.

"My Mum."

The Doctor physically shuddered, shaking his arms in disgust.

"Don't remind me," he muttered. "In my defence, she was the one who hit on me. _And_ I was in my Ninth form - honestly, did you lot prefer the large-eared "mature" look, or something? I certainly didn't."

He flashed her a startling grin before shrugging and heading away to one of the large domes. It was white and several metres high, long, thick wires trailing from its roof to the ceiling. Various tourists where scuttling in and out of the doors, some in conversation, some in silence.

"Oi, I'm not done with you yet!" Rose continued after the Doctor, following huffily in his wake. He laughed back at her, but this simply riled her more so. "Sarah Jane Smith," she pointed out reasonably.

"Old friend," the Doctor shot back over his shoulder, refusing to stop – this was one conversation he was not going to be drawn into.

"Cleopatra."

"_Everyone_ called her Cleo, Rose. Let it go."

"Captain Jack?"

"There was nothing 'Captain' about him, you know. I told you that. And he would have gone for the _TARDIS_, given half a chance."

"Cassandra, then."

The Doctor paused for a moment, glad that his back towards Rose: it wouldn't do for her to see him blush. He remembered all too well the way that woman had launched herself on him, in Rose's body no less. That had been – that was – he couldn't think of any words to describe it, upon reflection. It had been an 'experience', to say the least.

"Oh, that hardly counts," he replied quickly. "She was... well, you saw her."

Rose raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"All right then. I got one for you."

The Doctor whirled around, his coat flying out behind him. He stopped and shoved his hand in his pockets, the smile vanishing from his face. Something unexplained in the air had changed around him, and he felt his muscles tense. For a brief second, something resembling anger flitted across his face.

"Well?" he pushed, and his voice was almost cold. He wasn't quite sure where this sudden burst of anger had come from. He just suddenly felt the need to be severely irritated and annoyed at whatever the closest thing seemed to be. Pity it was Rose.

Rose had meant to hesitate, unsure if it was fair to bring it up when they were only messing around. But at the look on his face, a condescending, irritated sort of sneer, she didn't even think twice.

"What about Reinette?" she asked, her voice hard. "Can't forget that nice little French ta- girl, can we?"

The words stung at him like a burn. The Doctor blinked slowly back at her, slightly disbelieving that she had brought it up after all this time. The accusatory tone in her voice was something he could have done without, too, and he resented the fact that she still blamed him for what had happened. Yes, all right, so he'd jumped through a mirror on the back of a white horse named Arthur – but that didn't make him a bad person. It didn't give her the right to be angry with him, and it certainly didn't give her the right to look at him the way she was now.

"We should be getting in," the Doctor replied tersely, his face unreadable. He turned back to the building. "You'll miss what I've booked, and then the entire thing will be a waste of time. I won't be coming back here any time soon, either, so you'd best make the most of it."

Rose considered his words with a hurt frown. Maybe she had been a little unfair playing the Reinette card - in all honesty, she _had_ forgiven him. It had hurt, him leaving her like that; but not in the way she thought it might. She had figured in the past, if she ever had to "share" the Doctor, that she would be jealous. What she felt instead – a raw, despairing realisation that perhaps she _wasn't_ so special after all – ached at her heart so much more than that.

But it still didn't excuse the clipped tone in his voice or the heavily weighted implication in his words, though. It also didn't excuse him from shrugging and turning away from her to disappear inside one of the domes without even waiting to see if she was following.

Rose had the smallest temptation just to turn around, right there, and leave him to it. Let him have his mysterious 'appointment' - why should she care, if he so obviously didn't? There was probably an awful lot she could explore here on her own and enjoy without him. But then again, who knew when she might run in to the next aphrodisiac-sporting alien? It wasn't something she particularly wanted to risk. So, with an irritated sigh, she followed the Doctor inside.

He was stood at a desk in a fairly empty room. The carpet was a dirty beige, but the walls were pristine white, offering a horrifying clash. Another of the little blue aliens, like the one at the reception desk, was seated here, blinking up to the Doctor with a large, purple eye.

"Reservation for one?" it asked, its voice deep and male, yet oddly similar to that of the female's.

"Yes, that's the one," the Doctor confirmed with a stiff nod. When Rose appeared by his side, he didn't look at her.

"Do you have the text you wish to partake in?" the blue-bodied alien asked.

"Right here," he confirmed, rummaging around in his jacket and bringing out the battered copy of 'Pride and Prejudice'. Rose wondered how he managed to fit two books in there, at least, and not let it show. He passed the book to the alien, whose name tag read 'Laur', then noticed that Rose was watching him. "I could fit the entire universe in here if I wanted to, Rose. There's no need to look at me like that."

"I wasn't - " she started, but the Doctor simply turned away from her back to Laur.

"See that she gets the room I suggested, if you'd be so kind. You might want to give her a quick introduction, too. She hasn't done this before."

Laur's eye gave a small, gracious nod. "I'll see right to it," he said kindly.

The Doctor smiled forcibly and turned to leave the room. Only Rose's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Doctor, what's goin' on? Where're you going?"

He sighed shortly before turning back to her. "Thought you might want a bit of culture while you're here. This is actually what I brought you here for, not all that other stuff we bothered with. You're going to have a nice time here and enjoy yourself; I've got some business to attend to while I'm here. I'll be back to collect you later."

"So I'm a dog, am I?" Rose retorted, a little hurt at his curt nature. "You're just goin' to come and 'collect' me when it suits you?"

"Since you put it like that - yes."

She blinked at him and let her hand drop away from his arm. His reply was short and cold, offering no form of comfort.

"All right," she snapped at last, folding her arms across her chest and gaining a gleam in her eye. "What's the matter with you? 'Cause I ain't having you going off in that mood. You might not come back."

The Doctor sighed and looked at her, but offered no answer to her question. Instead, he blinked and raised his eyes to the assistant behind.

"Keep her in until I get back. She'll be all right, I won't be long."

"Doctor!" she tried again irritably as he made to leave. He looked down to her for a minute, his mouth thinned and his shoulders tensed.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said, meeting her gaze. "I'm not having this trip wasted. Just trust me."

"But - "

"Rose." This was more tender, at least. His eyes searched her face for a moment before he impulsively leant forward and bruised her forehead with an ambitious kiss, reaching a hand to rub at her upper arm brazenly. He quickly stood back, balancing steadily on his feet, his hand coming to a rest on her elbow. His eyes met hers again, and though his face was still stern, he had lost his cold edge. "Have a good time."

And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving a rather deflated and confused young woman behind him.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

Laur the alien hopped down from his desk and led a bemused Rose through a door in the back, down a long flight of stairs, along one of the many corridors that branched off it and, eventually, into a room. Everything was so clinically white that she had almost felt like she was in a hospital.

He had answered her questions easily enough. Where was she? The Literature Chamber. What was that? A place where one could become a part of any fictional writing by taking on the presence of one of the characters. That had shocked her. Upon further explanation, it turned out that the place had technology that could work itself into the imaginative part of the mind, portraying one's own consciousness into a story that was shared with the system.

The room itself had been fairly bland. A table. A chair. Something that looked like a tanning bed (though this turned out of be where she would lie whilst using the system). There was a slot in the wall, too, which shot out a metallic serpentine tongue to, as it turned out, put the book on. The wall then proceeded to, in Rose's opinion, eat the book hungrily, pulling it into its depths and recognising the characters as from Earth, before spinning up the system. Laur had taken his seat in the chair and turned it to face the wall, where instantly a flat keyboard and screen came out of nowhere. Rose was vaguely stunned.

After a brief tutorial on the safety guides and how to leave the system whenever she liked, how to control her surroundings, and how to manipulate what was around her, she was still a little hesitant about lying on the bed. Understandably, she wasn't particularly fond of the idea about being unconscious whilst some form of Artificial Intelligence invaded her mind. However, she was convinced that the Doctor wouldn't have brought her if it weren't safe, much less leave her here on her own – despite his irritation earlier. So, with the kind words of Laur, she slipped underneath the semi-circular cover and obediently let consciousness drift away into sleep. She was falling through darkness, tumbling down and down until the darkness in her mind's eye became colours, mixing and blurring together as she fell. Then there were shapes - houses, roads, trees, people. Before she knew it, there were noises and creations all around her, until she came to a stop with a thud.

Rose sat up and opened her eyes. She was in an unfamiliar bed with the light streaming in through a window on the other side of her four-poster. It was a shock, to say the least, to wake up in this strange yet comfortingly familiar surrounding. She peeled the covers away slowly, revealing a nightdress that she had apparently slept in. Timidly, Rose swung her feet out of the side of the warm bed and slipped down, her soles landing on steady wooden floorboards. She stood a little unsteadily, as if this was the first time she had ever used her legs.

Stumbling over to the dresser on the other side of her room, Rose glanced in the mirror. She was almost surprised to see her own face blinking back at her - somehow, she thought she would have taken on her imagined picture of Elizabeth Bennet, heroine of Jane Austen's _Pride & Prejudice_. With a grin and a shot of pride, she made her way over to the wardrobe set into the wall and pulled out a dress to wear. It was several long minutes later - about half an hour, at least - before she felt ready enough to face the daunting thought of breakfast. She shyly made her way down the stairs of the gorgeous house and was_ greet_ed warmly by her father, Mr Bennet. His old face cracked into a wide smile at the sight of his favourite daughter, whom he simply addressed as 'Lizzy'. Her mother, Mrs Bennet, fussed over she and her sisters whilst they ate toast and drank coffee, all the while Rose feeling both bemused and happy.

Waking up in the body of a woman from late 18th century England was not something she had ever expected to do - but despite everyone speaking in the sort of manner she remembered from the TV's six-part series, it all seemed eerily natural. She also seemed to know everyone as if they were her own family, like she had grown up and spent her entire life with them. She had memories of the past twenty years as her life as Elizabeth Bennet, but also could quite clearly remembered everything about the Doctor, her life in London and the past nineteen years of her real life. If was quite bizarre, like her mind and memories were in split-screen.

During her day she was led about the town in the company of her sisters - namely Jane, though Kitty and Lydia bounded on ahead. Rose still couldn't really understand what was happening; but she was happy enough to browse in the shop windows and greet some of the neighbours cheerfully. It was as the sun was drawing to a close in the sky, after a day of luxurious laughs and simple pleasures, that the four of them began to make their way back to the house. Mary had volunteered to stay behind, something about helping Mrs Bennet with her needlework. Rose and Jane had had a little chuckle about it later that day.

The views had been fantastic. Everything was beautiful and serene, the valleys bathed in colourful light, the town embroidered with rich houses and decorative shops. The dirty gravel path that Rose's shoes had tread all day merely added to the picturesque scene in her head. What was even stranger, she found, was walking through her imagination. It was precisely how she had imagined it whilst reading the book: to have it brought out right in front of her was something of a miracle. Something that she would treasure forever. And the Doctor was to thank for it all.

Rose spent a little part of the day thinking about her Doctor. His attitude before she had slipped in to this imagination world had been so cold, she had been determined to say she wouldn't enjoy it. Of course, even when he was angry with her, he seemed to know better - she was having the time of her life. But angry? Had he really been that upset? She had hit a nerve in their argument, she realised, but it wasn't anything too drastic. She would make it up to him when she saw him again, she vowed. It had been a stupid argument. So, with that thought set firmly in her mind, the rest of Roses' stay was fairly pleasurable.

The day she had visited, as it turned out, was the evening of the ball. That fateful ball where Darcy had first met Elizabeth and disliked her - and vice versa. The ball where Bingley would soon dance with Jane, thus beginning their roller coaster ride of affections. Rose wondered if she should say any of this out loud - was it possible to destroy Jane Austen's novel, cause some sort of weird paradox all because of her big mouth? She didn't really want to find out so, like the good girl she was, she kept quiet.

After the evening meal, consisting of a roast dinner, Rose and Jane helped prepare each other for the ball. Jane, Rose noticed, brought up Bingley's name more than once and Rose was more than happy to talk about him - once she had made the mistake of mentioning a Mr Darcy, only just too late realising that none of the family had heard of him yet, let alone met him. With a blush and a mumbled apology, Rose had swiftly brought the conversation around to Bingley again whilst putting up Jane's hair. A few short hours later, they were all ready to attend the ball.

The ball itself was rather exciting. Rose had never pictured herself as the sort of fancy ball type, but somehow being there - with a slim white dress of sequins and pearls, her hair tied back in the tightest of smooth buns - brought the atmosphere to life. The room was alive with chatter, dancing and music. She hadn't noticed Bingley arrive with his four other companions, until Jane sidled up next to her and pointed him out. Rose grinned at her 'sister', amused by the fact that she couldn't hide her joy at having danced with him twice already. Rose looked across the room to find him, and was quite impressed by what she saw. He was definitely the 'yum' factor in attractive, she reckoned. Perfect, smooth features, a gentle face, defined jawline, soft, sandy hair. Rose idly congratulated her imagination on such a work of art - she usually had trouble with _buildings_, let alone people.

Jane went off to join him again with a small curtsey, leaving Rose alone. She suddenly wondered why she couldn't recognise Darcy in the crowd - surely, if her memory was correct, he should be at this ball? However, her question was answered before she had dwelled on it too long.

"Hello, Miss Bennet."

The voice came from behind her and, with only the slightest of frowns, Rose turned in her seat to look up into the face of... the Doctor. She gaped, lost for words. He was standing there in a penguin tuxedo, his smart black jacket framing a crisp, white shirt. He was even wearing the bow-tie. His hair had been combed back off his smooth face, but only enough to send it searing off in all directions. He looked, actually, not unlike the waiter he had pretended to be in that parallel universe. Rather handsome, actually, Rose noted. He topped Bingley, hands down.

Rose squeaked with joy and surprise, leaping up and flinging her arms around his neck.

"Easy, easy," the Doctor laughed with affection, curling his hands tenderly around her back. She jumped down again, her cheeks slightly tinged. The Doctor grinned a smile that could have warmed the heart of even the real Darcy. "Got to keep up appearances, you know," he added quietly with a wink.

Rose simply beamed up at him, happiness spilling out of her like lava from a volcano.

"What you doin' here?" she asked happily. The grin showed in his voice when he answered, if not his deep eyes.

"Came to see you, didn't I?"

"Well yeah, but... I mean... how did you...?"

"Nifty little trick," he replied, wrinkling his nose slightly. "I came in to pick you up and was led to your room. When they told me which part of the story you were getting to, I just couldn't resist. Thought I'd pop in for a quick nose, see what your imagination's like. I've got to say, I'm impressed. Most people just have only one or two background influences. You know, room here, chair there. Even some of the main characters are cut out, depending on their importance. But you... you've got it all." His eyes had been surveying the room up until this point, drinking in the fabulous array; but at this last comment, his eyes flicked down to her again and his voice became as soft as melted butter. "Good for you."

Rose blushed and looked to the wall beside them.

"Yeah, well," she coughed resolutely. "Always did like the book as a kid."

The Doctor raised a knowing, amused eyebrow.

"Are you sure you don't mean you liked the television series?" he asked cheekily, biting down on his lip as he watched her fidget at his question. "You know, the one where Colin Firth gets his shirt off? The one that all the girls went mad for? I'm sure you liked it."

The heat in Rose's cheeks was almost too much to bear; her flush apparent to anyone who was looking close enough.

"Was all right," she mumbled in return, avoiding his eye contact. The Doctor laughed lightly before pouting.

"I'll just leave, shall I?" he joked. "You were probably excepting old Col to fill these shoes anyway; suppose I was a bit of a disappointment."

"No," she replied instantly shaking her head. Feeling her courage grow enough to brave eye contact, she let her eyes fall on his again. He was smiling softly, and not just with his mouth. "You could never be a disappointment, Doctor. Rather you any day."

Touched by the words, he was silent for a moment as he stepped backwards and let his eyes roam over her entire figure. The dress shimmered up at him: a white silver, accentuating her curves yet remaining the height of elegance. His eyes drifted upwards to rest on her beautifully smooth face, her large, brown eyes blinking patiently back at him, waiting for his verdict.

"Perfect," he grinned at last, before dipping forwards and sweeping her into a hug, spinning her around and not caring that people were beginning to look. Forget appearances: this was imagination. Anything - everything - could happen.

Rose giggled in his arms, a slight breeze picking up on her face as he spun her.

"What's got in to _you_?" she laughed when he had set her down again. He simply grinned and reached for her hand.

"Life!" he returned cheerily. "Imagination, soul, heart, spirit. You name it, Rose, it's in me. It's in you, too. That's what I love about this place - brings out the best in all of us."

When her eyes met his, he didn't look away. He merely drowned in her depths and grinned back stupidly, before stepping forwards and hovering over her, his eyes sincere.

"I wanted to apologise," he said earnestly, his eyes unblinking as he held her gaze. Apparently, he could change moods extremely quickly.

"What for?" Rose asked in return, her expression pure.

"What for?" he echoed with disbelief. "For earlier. For being so cold with you. I shouldn't have just left you there. I should have stayed with you and explained what was going on. Not gone off and left you like I did. That just wasn't on."

But Rose shook her head, feeling his apology unnecessary.

"'S'not your fault, Doctor. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"But you had every right to. You're right, I _did_ - "

"It doesn't matter," she cut across quickly, not particularly wanting to go into this right now. "Look, let's just both say we're sorry and forget it, yeah?"

He frowned down at her defiantly, his hand tightening on hers.

"Rose, you have no reason to apologise. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Doctor," she countered sternly, and he could tell from her look that it was water under the bridge. They could be here for the next millennia arguing this out, and arguing was hardly what he wanted to be doing. So, instead, he grinned good-naturedly and reached for her other hand, swinging them from side to side.

"I was lying, by the way. When I said I had some 'business' - I didn't have any business."

She smirked up to him almost cheekily.

"I knew it. You had the look of someone who couldn't wait to get rid of me!"

"I'm still sor- "

"Do I have to get into this again with you?" she snapped affectionately. The Doctor shrugged, feigning innocence. Then he grinned again and began to pull her towards the centre of the floor.

"Come on," he coaxed gently, sensing some hesitation. He looked at her pleadingly, his fingers tickling the back of her hand. When she blinked back at him calmly he added in a voice so soft only she could hear: "I want to see you _dance_."

She was shocked. "Doctor, I - "

But he had already pulled her into a swaying motion, his hand cupping hers gently just below her shoulder, his thumb resting across the knuckle of her index finger. His other hand found her waist easily enough and, as they began to move around the room to the music, the other couples in tow, Rose relaxed and put her hand on his shoulder as they danced.

It was easy enough to follow the steps with the Doctor leading her - he was brilliant with his feet, never once faltering, never once slipping up, his eyes always, always on her. She gazed back affectionately, the room spinning around them and a grin spreading over her face. He matched it, doubly so, his eyes lighting up like fire. Time melted away around them until the Doctor seemed to notice something.

"You're good," he commented lightly as they span; he sounded almost surprised. The rest of the room was a hazy blur, though whether that was their motion of the effect of the look the Doctor was giving her, Rose couldn't tell.

"Got a good teacher," she answered with wisdom.

"Nah," the Doctor countered as they circled the floor. "I've given up teaching. This - is all you. And it's good, Rose. Very good. No one has ever been able to keep up with me while I've danced before."

The breath caught in her throat as their intense gaze reached climax. There was a possibility he was talking about dancing. A probability, in fact - but there was also the smallest of chances that he was trying to tell her something else. Not wanting to dwell on it too much, Rose simply let the room fall away around them as their feet danced a pattern that hadn't been stepped in years.

"No?" she questioned before she could stop herself, her eyes shining with adoration. She felt his hand tighten around her waist.

"No," he confirmed, his voice steady, his gaze not leaving hers for a second. It was like he was staring into her very soul and exploring her depths yet further. "Everyone else, they've always fallen behind; got lost in the music; given up. But not you. Never you. You're with me every step of the way, not even afraid of the notes you don't recognise or the steps you don't know. Do you know how amazing that is, Rose? How amazing it is to find someone like that? Because I'll tell you something: I do. I'm used to my own beat, my own time, my own notes, instruments, steps, rhythm - you name it. The things no one else has been able to match."

"But, Doctor," Rose reasoned quietly, amazed and astounded by the pride she saw reflected in his eyes, "Isn't it all a bit redundant if you don't have anyone to dance with?"

He smiled at her happily, letting out a small sigh through his nose.

"Yes and no. It's easy enough to teach someone the basics and get on with it. But it's a bit like putting a small plaster over a deep graze: there's only so much good it'll do until it all falls apart and I'm forced to find someone else to fill the gap. Partners come and go with me, Rose. It's a fact of life."

At this, Rose did break the eye contact, letting her eyes flick to his upper torso instead, her forehead curling into a frown.

"Oh."

"Thing is..." the Doctor continued thoughtfully before she got the wrong idea, "I never thought I'd ever find the person who knew the moves off by heart beforehand. Who didn't need tutorials, who I could just jump in with, all the elaborate twists and turns I could think of included, and still have them keep up. More than just keep up. Startle and surprise me in their courage and ability, despite only having been at it shorter than a lifetime. Or, come to think of it, nine lifetimes."

Rose, who got the distinct impression that they had stopped talking about the physical act of dancing quite a while back, grinned and blushed, her eyes rising slowly to meet his again.

"If you said what I think you said..." she told him slowly as they moved, "Then thank you, Doctor. Means a lot."

"I'm surprised you followed that," he admitted with a contemplative sigh. "I think I had a metaphor for a metaphor at some point. But my point still stands. I mean it, Rose." A pause as he grinned at her, completely swallowed by the look she was giving him. "You're better than all of them. Wouldn't change you for the world."

From irritatingly ambiguous to shockingly blunt in a matter of seconds, she thought with a smile. He looked at her gently, his eyes glittering.

As if picking up on their mood, the music around them suddenly pulled to a slow, easy beat, and the couples who had been circling the floor (all of whom Rose had forgotten about) melded together in a hazy sway. She suddenly found the Doctor a lot closer to her than earlier, his hand slipping from her waist to her back, his fingers burning through the dress as he did so. He took in a quiet, shuddered breath before leading her clasped hand surreptitiously to his other shoulder. Then slowly, keeping his eyes locked with hers, he ran his fingers delicately back down the bare skin of her arm, up her shoulder, along the curve of her silken neck and brought his hand to rest to cup her cheek, his touch so light it was barely more than a whisper.

They were still swaying, ever so slightly, in time with the gentle music. Rose wondered when the lights had dimmed.

The Doctor lowered his head slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his breath tickling under her nose. She couldn't help but smile. God - he couldn't half dance.

"It's a bit like a dream, really, isn't it?" he commented quietly, and he was so close Rose could feel the movement of his lips brush millimetres against hers. A charge of something stronger than electricity shot through her.

"_Am_ I dreaming?" she asked, a quiet, desperate pleading in her voice. She felt the Doctor smile.

"I hope not. It means I am, too. That this is all our imagination." A pause, during which Rose felt the heat in the room rise by about two hundred degrees. "Do you think you're imagining this?"

"I - " Rose began, her eyes half closed. The connection between her brain and her mouth seemed to have been cut off by something, perhaps the fingers that were lightly caressing the small of her back. "...Don't know," she finished with a breath, her mind swimming.

"Hmm. Maybe we should find out. What do you think?"

The Doctor's eyes were open, blinking at her softly. He was so close, she could feel the heat of his body surging through her like magma. She could have fallen into him right there, drowned in those dark eyes of his. He traced his thumb deftly across her cheek, bringing it to rest on her full, pouting lips. Without so much as a hesitation, he tilted his head and pulled himself towards her ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine. His touch was so perfect and exquisite, Rose wondered how she had ever managed to survive without it.

"Tell me if it's too much..." she heard him whisper softly, his nose brushing against her fine strands of hair. Her heartbeat raced, thumping away loudly in her head. She couldn't think. She could barely even breathe. Her vision had become clouded with a thick fog until all she could see was the Doctor, his soft breath caressing her skin as he moved his lips over her cheek. With an expert amount of pressure from his fingertips, he angled her neck so that he could follow a smooth line down her skin with his teasing mouth, never once faltering, but gentle and slow in his actions.

He could smell her inside him, breathing her in like oxygen. She was deep and raw, her passion emanating off her in waves, triggering senses he had long forgotten he had. There was a sweetness touching at her edge, an innocence that he craved, even now. It was not enough to just catch her scent as he followed a line of whispered kisses to the hollow of her neck. It wasn't the same as taste. He wanted to taste her, drown in feel of her against his mouth. Temptation ripping through him like the claws of a wild animal, he gently flicked his tongue out over the flesh at his mouth, applying just that extra bit of pressure as his lips parted above her skin. He slowly tickled his tongue over the enticement of her flesh, searing her with thrills that ran through her entire body. His touch became stronger, more dominant, as he let his teeth scrape lightly at her frame, relishing her taste. Her skin was sweet and pure, like almonds and cherries, but there was a tangy bitterness there too which he recognised in himself.

Rose let out a soft moan, arching her neck backwards, offering him more of a canvas to work with. He was more confident now, his kisses more definite as he moved from her neck to outline her jaw, the edge of his teeth just barely grazing her tempting flesh. He worked his way slowly back up the curve of her chin to her soft cheeks, his actions rewarded with desperate gasps. The hand at her back pulled her closer to him and his eyes fluttered closed with ecstasy as he planted sweet kisses against her. Her hands were working the way from the nape of his neck to his tangled mass of her, inviting him to her skin. A deep, possessive growl echoed somewhere from the back of his throat as he felt her request, and his fingers on her cheek pulled her neck down again, inching him closer and closer to her enticing lips. His eyes flickered open, just for a second, as he revelled the beauty in his arms. Oh, how he had waited for this.

Then his gaze fell on her lips, parted slightly, and all other thought became desire; he swept towards her in a final caress, stealing her mouth away with his own. The sensation was fantastic. At the lightest pressure she felt him almost melt beneath her, tilting his head to take her kiss, again and again. She had no hesitation parting her mouth as he captured her, the merest tickle of his tongue teasing her to the brink of whimpering. He was soft and gentle, but behind every flick of his tongue and brush of his lips there was a deep passion that coursed through him, fighting for an escape. It came when their kiss depended, his tongue finding hers and setting an explosion of sensations and tastes thrilling through her. His flavour was dark and rich, like real, bitter coffee. The touch that came with it was edged with a dangerous possession she had always known he'd had. A possession she had fallen for. Every atom and molecule that had the ability for coherent thought screamed for more, needing her to find a way to become a part of him forever.

It was only when Rose found she couldn't spend the rest of her life without breath that the kiss subsided. It ended with a soft parting, a longing connection that they kept for what felt like an eternity. The Doctor's lips finally broke reluctantly from hers and he rested against her forehead, his breath so deep he was almost panting. He refrained from opening his eyes, holding on to the mental picture in his mind for as long as he could. But eventually he gave in, and was pleased for it. She had a warm glow about her, an enticing flush that almost made him lose his last thread of control right then and there.

"My, my. That's some imagination you've got," he breathed with a grin after a while and she blinked at him softly, words refusing to form constructive sentences in her mind.

The Doctor brought his head up slightly, using his fingers to delicately tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He bit his lip, tasting her still, as he looked down at her. The sheer look on his face was enough to send Rose into wild shivers of excitement. He gently let his hand drop to her side, where her awaiting fingers had retreated.

"Tell you what," he murmured softly, his fingers playing against hers. "Why don't we get out of this system, shall we? It's not quite where I had in mind..."

Rose, still incapable of speech, nodded mutely. Her head was so thick with desire, she could barely recognise what was going on. But listening to the Doctor's words, she released her mind from the system surrounding her and let her mind drift to consciousness...

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

The Doctor paced impatiently in the waiting lounge. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were slightly hunched, irritation clear on his face. The rounded, white plastic seats offered uncomfortable support, and he was hardly one to sit down anyway. He stopped and glanced to the clock on the wall. Oh, come _on_: she should be out by now. He had put in a call for her withdrawal some time ago, ever since coming out of the system himself. That had been a strange experience and a half.

All set to enjoy some of the finer points in his life - courtesy of an autobiography he had been writing in his spare time - the Doctor had first of all been more than a little miffed to find that the system could only partly translate his Gallifreyan language, leaving large blotches of adventures out all over the place. He had also been more than surprised when Rose had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, admitting to the fact that everyone connecting her with London had died in a freak aeroplane crash and that she had no more ties to Earth. On top of that, she announced the rediscovery of Gallifrey and that it was waiting for him to visit. She had also laughed at his scarf.

"I liked that scarf," the Doctor said aloud now, his voice tinged with sadness. His fourth incarnation had had quite a thing for scarves, and he'd always been rather fond of them. One of the more patient visitors - a small little guy with a horn sticking out of his forehead - looked up at the Doctor like he was mad. The Doctor beamed, but before he had the chance to come up with a witty reply, the door at the end of the room slid open. Rose was ushered through by a hasty guide. When she spotted the Doctor, her face lit up and she beamed at him as if he were Chuckles the Clown brandishing a giant, red lollipop.

"There you are!" she grinned happily as she approached. The Doctor's smile he gave her in return was slightly wan.

"Here I am, indeed," he agreed thinly. "Did you have a good time?"

She frowned at him and paused, considering his nature.

"What's got in to _you_? What happened to your 'life is great' personality?"

The Doctor blinked. "Think you took a knock to the head, Rose." He smiled, this time with feeling, tapping her lightly on the head with a loose fist.

"You mean - " Rose paused, trying to add up exactly what the Doctor had told her. She had woken with the memories like a dream-like quality, fading away from her fast. But the experience had been something she would never forget. "You don't remember?"

"Er... remember what? I could give you a full account of the day, if you like; I think you'll find my memory's in tact."

"Oh," Rose sighed, frowning to herself. Did he regret it? Was he trying to worm his way out of it? Could he really not remember? She couldn't tell. "All right."

Picking up on her expression like an eagle to a rabbit, the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Rose, you saw me in the system, didn't you?" he asked, but went on before she could answer. "It must have been a small addition to their programming. Either that, or a glitch. Happens sometimes, even to the best of us."

She blinked at him, not entirely sure what he meant. "So... it was just a mistake, then?"

"That's the one," the Doctor confirmed with a nod. "You popped in for a little in mine, too. I suppose that rather then activating the imagination just for the book, it portrayed some deeper parts of our imagination. Inner desires, maybe. Brought them out in the middle of the storyline because it could - fascinating. It may be a glitch, but think of the possibilities if they've actually harnessed that! People could have the chance to live in their dreams... Not forever, understandably. Just long enough to know what it would be like. Amazing."

He began to lead Rose out of the room as they talked, and they emerged out of another door into the reception chamber of the dome. As he headed across the carpet and through the doors, he failed to noticed Rose's ashen face. It had all been her imagination. He'd even as good as told her so - her Doctor. So clever, brilliant, all-knowing. And her inner desire... She gave a small shudder.

"You all right?" the Doctor asked with a worried expression.

"Yeah," Rose nodded quickly, not quite being able to look at him. "Yeah. Fine."

They walked in silence back to the lift. The Doctor barely said a word as he fiddled with the controls again - he didn't look at her or reach for her hand, either. Not that Rose particularly minded. Her mind was set on her imagination, on the experience. Glancing to him every now and then while he worked with the controls, she felt a tingling sensation on her skin, as if hundreds of tiny insects were crawling all over her. She felt a guilty sickness rise in her stomach and had to look away. The Doctor - her Doctor - reduced in her mind to nothing more than a piece of meat. She feared would never be able to look at him in quite the same way again.

When the doors slid open, after yet another bumpy ride, Rose was surprised to see the arrival bay. The Doctor stepped out with his hands in his pockets and an easy grin on his face, expecting her to follow. She did so, if a little tentatively.

"Doctor, where're we goin'?" she asked, following in his wake. He turned his head against the angle of his body to look at her, before pulling to stop. She did the same by his side, looking up to him with a questioning frown.

For a brief moment, he looked at her with all the seriousness in the world. Then he let out a drawn sigh and began making his way towards the arrival bay.

"We can't stay," he answered quietly while they walked, his expression shallowed. "I know I said we could, but we can't. Something's come up."

"What kind of something?"

The Doctor looked to Rose with a hollowed look in his eyes, a sort of wary disappointment she had not seen in a long time.

"It's the TARDIS," he sighed worriedly. "This place has been stealing from us. The energy she gives off, it's tempting for anyone to want to sneak in and nab. Nothing serious has come of it, don't worry," he added, seeing Rose's incredulous expression. "They just claimed they needed to 'borrow' some power from all the ships that were docked, something about supplying energy to... something or other. I wasn't really listening - it was a load of malarkey, anyway. They just wanted a good peek inside my ship. Fortunately, she told me about it right away. Good old girl, she is. Course..." The Doctor trailed off, somewhat guiltily, reaching a hand to rub thoughtfully at the back of his neck. His features adopted a screwed-up, attentive look about him while he spoke. "...I only realised that was what she was trying to tell me _after_ I'd started a nice little trip down memory lane. Fascinating technology, this place. Inspiring. I tell you, Rose, there's nothing like it. I'm almost sorry not to have the chance to bring you back here again. Oh, that's a point - "

He paused in his monologue, flicking his eyes to Rose again. She was standing patiently listening to him ramble, his words somehow meaning both something and nothing to her. She couldn't make sense of half of them, but it was as if they were rearranging themselves in her mind, spelling out a different meaning to his speech. When he caught her eye, she merely raised an eyebrow.

The Doctor grinned bashfully, lowering his arm.

" - I owe you an apology, I think," he said slowly, watching her.

There was a pause as Rose considered him. She leant against the wall carefully, beside the passage that was soon to open out into the corridor that led them to the TARDIS.

"What for?" she asked cautiously, knowing full well what was coming. Even in her mind, she supposed his apologies couldn't be that different. The reminder of what had happened... afterwards... sent guilt flooding through her.

Carefully, slowly, he reached for her hand and glanced guiltily to the floor.

"I was a little short with you earlier, before I sent you into the Literature Chamber. It was the TARDIS' influence - me picking up on her bad mood, if you like. I'd be pretty miffed, too, come to think of it: some smarmy little alien trying to steal my life force. It's not like they don't have any- "

"Doctor," Rose interrupted good-naturedly, saving him from another rant. He grinned at her, really and truly this time, his eyes lighting with him.

"Not much of an apology, is it?" he laughed.

Rose shook her head, but smiled. "More'n I deserve, though. I'm... I'm sorry, too. For – "

"Don't," the Doctor interrupted gently, squeezing her hand. He looked their gaze. "Just... don't, Rose. You needn't."

They smiled at each other, sharing something so subtle that passers by would have missed it.

The door slid open beside them. The Doctor grinned, slinging an arm loosely around her shoulder while they walked down the glass corridor together in amiable silence. Thanking the receptionist curtly, the couple stepped into the TARDIS. It disappeared with its grating, metallic surge of a noise, into the realms of the Time Vortex, completely oblivious to the danger that was surrounding it...

With a sneer and a malevolent smile, the figure watching the cells sat back in its high leather chair and steepled its fingers. The trap had been sprung. Information was at the ready. The only thing to do now was wait.

* * *

Next Chapter...

_**Chapter V - Seeing is Believing**_

"_I think we've gotten past the stage of the big differences," he continued, toying playfully with the fingers on her hand, "And I know you've accepted me in this form. But it's the little things, isn't it? The small traces of my old personality that shine through, they bring you back down to Earth a bit, don't they?"_

_Rose met his eye and nodded, ever so slightly. He linked their fingers._


	5. Seeing is Believing

**Author's Note**: You guys are going to hate me. Not only has it taken me an unbelievably unfair amount of time to get this up, but I'm going to France in three days for two-and-a-half weeks. The delay between this chapter and the last was unbelievable. I don't even have an excuse, other than my muse walked up and wandered out half way through and I couldn't even stand to look at this story, let alone edit it. So yes, put me on a list or something; I'll update the second I get back. If I get the chance, I'll be writing more chapters out there. I have others stored on this computer, but obviously, no computers where I'll be going - it's a holiday! Everyone has been really supportive of this, and I actually feel guilty for not updating quicker. Reviewers, you guys are fantastic, every single one. I would do personal shout-outs, except that I'd be here far too long and you guys want the story.

Also, a cookie to anyone who can guess which episode of the show I watched before writing this one /giggle/

Right, there we go then: see you in two and a half weeks!

* * *

**Chapter V - Seeing is Believing**

**

* * *

**

Tobias Finley was not having a good day. It had started out all right, yes. Just a minor tiff with his girlfriend, nothing to worry about. It wasn't his fault that he was being forced to work extra shifts during the evening to pick up a couple of extra Natoes. He only needed a few more before he could buy her that ring. Then, at least, she might stop complaining.

Their little spat had made him late for the bus, whose schedule was annoyingly precise; he had had to walk four blocks and around the local park before he could hail a taxi – yet more money from his back pocket. He hadn't been _that_ late to work; only enough to earn him a lecture from the boss, who had commented that it was the fifth time he had been late this semester.

By the time he'd actually got around to working, the bar was already full and he was being shouted at from all angles, some for drink orders, some for meals, some just calling him things he'd rather not repeat. Fairly dull day, really.

It had livened up a little when Raynor put in an appearance: it had been a while since he'd come for a visit. Not a resident of the hotel, he got thrown out on frequent occasions. However, he always found a way back and – though Tobias would hardly call them friends – it was nice to see that he always made the effort. Of course, Tobias's working rota changed regularly, and he never worked at the same bar consecutively. Pity, really.

He'd liked the girl, though. She was pretty and sweet, so quite what she saw in Raynor he didn't know. He had been a little hesitant at bringing out that drink for her – the poor thing, she probably didn't have a clue what it did – but the tiniest part of him wanted to find out, wanted to see if she could handle it. Of course, it was only when that man of hers had stormed in - anger quite clearly written all over his features – that he realised what a fool he'd been and got rid of Raynor as soon as he could.

Tobias had been touched by the couple's affection for each other, though: particularly the way the man was protective of the girl. What was it that he'd called her? Rose? She had merely referred to him as 'Doctor', though quite what he would he have been a doctor in, he wasn't sure. He didn't look medical, to say the least. Then again, _he_ had quite obviously known about the drink. And had a word or two to say about Raynor feeding it to her, too. One day, he hoped he and Henrietta would have that with each other.

Thoughts like this mulled through the barman's head all day as he worked, cleaning glasses, fetching drinks, obeying orders. For some strange reason that he couldn't quite fathom, his mind kept wandering back to that Doctor and his Rose. He hoped, idly, to see them again before they left the hotel.

It was so near to the end of his extra shift, Tobias was sure there must have been a mistake. But, no, there was definitely a telephone call for him; from Henrietta's mother, of all people. He could stand the woman, to a certain extent, but to call him while he was working? That was irritating, not to mention slightly worrying.

He went into the conference room and picked up on the vid-com. Her large face swam into view, her squashed features even more ominous on a big screen.

"What can I do for you, Caroline?"

"Don't you give me none of that!" she squawked angrily back at him, her voice a pitch higher than it usually was. "My little Henry's over here crying her eyes out because of what you've done! She tells me all these things about how you two keep fighting, and how you won't listen to her needs. Well, I'm not having it! She's told me to ring and tell you, which is what I'm doing, that you don't be expecting her back in that house of yours any time soon. She's packed up all her stuff and she's coming back to stay with us for a bit, clear her head. She says... what was that, love? Oh, yes, she says she can't stand to be around someone who won't listen to her and... and what's that? Ah yeah, she don't love you anymore and you'd best go find yourself another floozy to hang 'round with, because she ain't having none of it! And, I'd just like to add, that if you ever come near my daughter again, I'll get Mr Joe and his pitchfork out to come find you! You hear me?"

The vid-com cut out into a blank screen before the news really had a chance to sink in. Tobias stood there stupidly for a moment, blinking at the receiver, his mind a whirlpool of thoughts. Henry... leaving him? Since when had it become so drastic? He had to talk to her, he decided resolutely. Once he explained what was going on, that the _last_ thing he wanted her to do was leave, she'd come back and it would all be straightened out.

Tobias slammed the door behind him and threw his tea-towel down on the counter angrily. Was it not bad enough that his day had started out lousy? That every little thing he seemed to do just made his life that tiny bit more difficult? And that damned woman, that _Caroline _–_ s_he had a lot to answer for, he was sure. Henry wouldn't just up and leave him like that. Not a chance.

As he made for the door across the bar, his boss popped his head out after him.

"If you leave now, you won't have a job to come back to," he warned threateningly: he couldn't do with his staff members running off, especially not with Toby's track record.

"I don't care!" Tobias spat without even turning around. "Because if I _don't_ leave now, I won't have a _life_ to go back to. Like hell am I losing her."

The manager shrugged and turned back into the office. Leave the guy to it, it would sort itself out eventually. He had enough paperwork to deal with, without worrying about insolent little workers who wanted to go and burn off some steam in the middle of their working hours. It just wasn't on.

His thoughts were interrupted by a single, angry shout. This was shorty followed by the sounds of a scuffle, the sound of glass shattering and a terrifying scream. Worry for his employee springing up – he was not completely heartless, after all – he dashed out of the room and bounded down the stairs. The floor was empty and silent, the residents and workers having all packed off to bed. The lights were dimmed, though not out, and there was a strange silence about the place. He knew from experience that the lifts were not that fast, so where had Toby disappeared off to?

After walking around the empty floor for a little and calling Tobias's name in vain, the truth suddenly became sickeningly clear. Despite its thickness, the glass column in the middle of the room had been shattered – by the looks of things, someone had run at it with one of the chairs and now there was a gaping hole in it, the shards like glistening teeth around its edge. The manager, Paul by name, edged towards the glass hesitantly. He peered through the hole and what he saw made him double back in horror. Just under one hundred floors below, sprawled out on the ground floor and surrounded by a pool of his own blood, was the broken, shattered body of Tobias Finley.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

Rose woke suddenly with a shiver, a cold band of sweat across her forehead. It took her a moment or two to recognise the dark shapes of her bedroom in the TARDIS, the soft feel of the mattress of her bed beneath her. The details of her nightmare began to slip away from her and she sank warmly into the covers. Despite the unpleasant memory of falling through a cold, harsh wind, she struggled to piece together the sense of her dreams. She couldn't remember much. Just an odd feeling, here or there. A warm, golden light. Serenity, as everything began to fall away from her. Peacefulness, feeling like she was whole again. But a deep, raw pain that ripped through her as everything came crashing down around her, all the things she had ever felt combining together in an explosion of intensity. Then the sudden loss of it all, the feel of a different warmth, a warmth mingling with hers. From another. 

And then, out of nowhere, she had been ripping through painful shards that had torn at her skin, feeling a sudden need to find someone. A girl, Rose thought, though she couldn't be sure. And then she had been falling, down and down, and felt fear and remorse. A cold sickening feeling in her stomach, and anger at nothing and no one in particular. And then nothing, as it all came to an end.

The remnants of the dream blurred together, creating an annoyingly abstract story in her head that she just couldn't make sense of. The first part, with the golden warmth – that had felt familiar. Like something she had dreamed before. But it was as if she had been torn away, pulled suddenly into the realms of something more sinister.

Rose sat up slowly and shook her head, the back of her neck drenched with sweat.

"Tha's attractive," she muttered quietly into the darkness of her room, her voice croaking with tiredness. She reached a hand to wipe at the perspiration, before slipping her feet out of the side of the bed and crawling through the TARDIS corridors in search of the Doctor. It was no surprise to find him in the console room.

He looked up at her arrival, his hands poised over a keyboard covered with alien symbols. Giving her a grin that would melt the polar ice caps, he forgot his work at the controls and sidled over to her.

"Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm," Rose confirmed sleepily through a yawn. It was true. Up until the vague nightmare at the end, the rest had been uninterrupted.

"Ah, I see. Not at the point where you're ready for coherent sentences yet. Breakfast?"

She nodded, licking her lips – her mouth was dry and stale, like she hadn't had a drink in several days. The Doctor grinned again before shrugging back over to the controls, this time heading for a lever.

"What do you say to Greek Yoghurt and Honey?" he asked over his shoulders as he worked. "Always been one of my favourites, I must admit. It beats Marmite and toast any day."

As if to confirm this, he gave a small shudder at the thought of the tangy, bitter snack. Rose smiled, coughed, then found her voice.

"Yeah, that yoghurt thing sounds good," she answered, ambling over to the console and leaning against the controls, her frizzy hair clinging to her tired face. "Never had it before, but I s'pose it can't be as bad as your scrambled eggs."

The Doctor looked up.

"Never had it before?" he asked, almost incredulous. "You're in for a treat. And," he added, with a warning wave of his finger, "you liked my scrambled eggs. So there'll be none of that, Miss Tyler, or you'll be on your own for breakfast."

They shared a grin for the moment before the Doctor went back to tap on his keyboard.

"Thought you liked Marmite," Rose commented absently, watching him work. He frowned, though whether that was at what she'd said or at the controls, she wasn't sure.

"I used to," he admitted, a tinge of sadness in his voice. "Love It or Hate It, that's what they say. I guess this time around, I'm a Hate It sort of man."

"Oh."

It was strange – a tiny thing like the fact of whether or not he liked Marmite was enough to remind Rose just how different her Doctor had become. It was a good different, she was sure, despite the loss of who he used to be. He was funnier, and brighter; laughed a lot more too. Bit of a flirt, as well. Her mother liked him. Jackie didn't seem to mind so much when Rose disappeared off with this man into his blue police box. But it was like she had to get to know him, all over again. Not as a friend – as a friend, he would always be the same and care about her in the same way. There were new little quirks that she kept forgetting about, even now. He was a different man, no matter what he said.

As if sensing what she was thinking – perhaps from the tone in her voice – the Doctor brought his head up and looked to her fondly.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching to tuck her hand into his. He smiled gently. "I'm still me. Marmite doesn't make a man."

She chuckled softly, but it was void of any humour. The Doctor slipped from the keyboard next to her, his face deadly serious.

"I think we've got past the stage of the big differences," he continued, toying playfully with the fingers on her hand, "And I know you've accepted me in this form. But it's the little things, isn't it? The small traces of my old personality that shine through, they bring you back down to Earth a bit, don't they?"

Rose met his eye and nodded, ever so slightly. He linked their fingers.

"Like the way I say 'fantastic'?" he asked gently. Another nod. "And that fierce, dangerous side of me. The side that can bring down the reputation of a Prime Minister in six words. The side that stands up to the things that threaten existence, for what's right. Those are the things that make you wish I hadn't changed, aren't they?"

At this, however, Rose shook her head. He frowned slightly to her.

"I never wish that," she answered a little hoarsely. "Not any more. And, yeah, there are parts of you that are like... how you were before. But that's nice, 'cause it means I know it's still you in there. And the differences are good, too. I couldn't see you saving the world with a Satsuma in your last form, or helpin' Cassandra like you did, or jumping through a mirror – "

" – on the back of a white horse?" the Doctor completed with a good-natured grin. Rose laughed and nodded before meeting his eye again and swallowing.

"It's jus'... every now and then, I wonder what you'd be like as the old you. With those stupid ears and that leather jacket, and your _really_ stubborn personality. Would we be where we are now?"

The Doctor frowned.

"No," he countered instantly. "We'd be somewhere completely different. You can't even begin to imagine all the different possibilities that branch off from the tiniest decision. It's like billions and billions of parallel worlds all linked together to the original. This is the path that we're travelling on as a consequence of the actions and decisions that have passed us by. But that's not to say that somewhere, out there, there isn't an older form of me running around the universe with you. For all we know, my Ninth self is sitting out there somewhere with another version of you, wondering exactly what happened when the Daleks attacked the Earth." He was looking to the ceiling now, wondering his thoughts aloud. "And who knows? Maybe somewhere else there's still a Gallifrey for me to come back to and ignore whenever I like. Maybe it didn't burn in the Time War. Maybe they all lived."

He felt Rose squeeze gently on his hand and brought his gaze back to her. She was looking at him with large, round eyes, her expression grieving. It was as if, somehow, she was sharing in his pain. It was impossible, he knew - there was no way she could _really_ know what he went through when his thoughts drifted back to Gallifrey. But that look in her eye was enough to tell him just how special she really was.

"'S'nice to think that could happen," Rose smiled softly. He echoed it, with both his mouth and his eyes.

"Yeah. It is."

"D'you really think there are all those parallel worlds for every decision we make? Like the one we fell in to before?"

"Who knows?" the Doctor answered thoughtfully, puffing his cheeks out slightly. "There could be. It _is_ physically possible – but that's a lot of 'maybe's to think about. It's probably best to leave it to the imagination, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," Rose shrugged. He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow, pushing her towards the corridors of the TARDIS.

"You'd best go get dressed. Can't exactly eat breakfast all covered in teddy bears." He raised an eyebrow to her conspicuous pyjamas. "And what happened to my old friends, the purple elephants? Don't tell me you've grown out of them," the Doctor continued, pouting. "I was rather fond of them."

Rose pursed her lips, doing her very best to hide a smile.

"I don't think the TARDIS cares what I eat my breakfast in," she retorted.

"Probably not," the Doctor agreed, turning back and pressing a button. "But I'm sure the Ancient Greeks will. If you turn up in fuzzy brown bear pyjamas, they're going to start looking at you as though you'd just announced the French Revolution of 1697."

Rose frowned, history lessons flooding back to her mind.

"Doctor, there wasn't a French revol– "

"Yes, I know, you can thank me later," he grinned smugly. "Nice people, the French. Bit disagreeable when it comes to war, though. Wouldn't want to be on their bad side. Anyway, Rose, go and get dressed and meet me here in five minutes."

He beamed at her, darting around the console and pulling hastily down on a lever. The TARDIS lurched, and Rose with it.

"So you're taking me – "

"Out to breakfast in the middle of Greece, yes. So chop chop; it won't wait forever."

Rose pulled herself to her feet, grumbling something about impatient Time Lords and their over-inflated egos. The Doctor cackled manically with delight as she left, hopping around the console room like a cat after a piece of string. With a gleeful expression of inner happiness, he turned a dial and pushed a leaver, ripping the TARDIS through the vortex and sending it hurtling through time.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

Breakfast was divine. Or so the Doctor said. Rose called it strange, flavourless tangy yoghurt mixed with sweet honey, which sort of took the edge off it. 

The Doctor had led her through a market place, busy with merchants and slaves, bustling stalls, dogs, cats and the most wonderful display of items. There were clay bowls, plates and cups, wooden spoons, various pieces of food and drink, fruits, wines and much, much more. It had been the Doctor's wonderful idea to lead her by the hand, spotting items here and there, but mainly picking out two bowls, two spoons, a large pot of yoghurt and some fresh honey.

Then, not being a man of too much patience, he had led her to a little grass verge not far down the dusty, stony path and they had sat spooning the yoghurt into their mouths. The Doctor's meal had gone so fast, Rose might have thought he had inhaled it; hers went down less quickly, purely because the taste took a while to get used to. She kept adding the honey to her mixture, making it sweeter and sweeter until it was finally edible and didn't make her wince with sourness.

"It's... nice," she offered at last, when the Doctor asked her what she thought. He laughed wholly, throwing his head back and letting out gleeful sounds into the morning sunshine. He had he arms out behind him, his hands splayed out on the grass to keep him upright, his legs crossed neatly at the ankles out in front of him. His white toga wrapped around him like a sheet; a small, brown plaited belt around his middle the only thing keeping it decent. A breeze kicked up out of nowhere, blowing his wild hair in all directions and sending shivers over his bare arms.

Rose grinned at him when he caught her eye, placing her bowl next to his then gazing up to the sky. There wasn't a cloud to be seen. Just fresh, glorious blue spreading out for miles and miles. Some way along the path beside them, a route branched off to follow a course down to a beach, where deep sapphire waves were rushing up and down along the white shore.

"How about this then, eh?" the Doctor beamed, inhaling the crisp, salty air. "Greek yoghurt and honey from a market-place in Ancient Greece! Nectar and ambrosia! Food of the Gods! You can't say you're not impressed."

"I reckon you were jus' looking for an excuse to see me in a toga, Doctor," Rose answered cheekily, toying with the hem of her deep crimson garment.

"Me!" He looked incredulous, before grinning and turning to gaze out to the horzion. "I have better things to do with my time than ogle pretty girls in togas."

She smiled raucously. "You think I'm pretty, then?"

The Doctor met her eye. "Well, you could do with a bit of a hair-cut..."

He laughed brazenly when she hit him across the shoulder, but then ran his tongue over his teeth and continued. "I think you're wonderful."

Rose's grin faded to a shy smile and she blushed, surreptitiously wiping the palms of her damp hands on the grass.

"Not so bad yourself, Doctor," she replied, turning her head to look in front of her.

"What was that?" The Doctor cupped a hand to his ear. "Didn't quite hear you over this wind."

"I said, you're not – " It was then that she caught his eye and found him to be shaking with laughter. She scorned his cheek, climbing to her feet and straightening her toga. With a warm, good-natured smile, he stood too, running a hand through his hair before bending down and picking up the small pot of honey. The dish of yoghurt lay empty, as did the two bowls and spoons. Rose raised an eyebrow to him.

"What?" he asked innocently, noting her expression. She cleared her throat, then looked pointedly down to the left crockery.

"You jus' gonna leave that there?"

"It's the custom!" he lied. "Don't worry, some little servant will come along and find it, take it home and then all will be well. Nothing gets wasted around here, Rose. This era is fantastic for its recycling – pity it won't last."

Rose frowned at him, disbelieving. He merely grinned rakishly. Then, with no warning whatsoever, he lowered two fingers down to dip in the honey pot in his hand. He swirled his fingers around for a moment or two, then lifted them back to the depths of his mouth, enjoying the sweetness merging with the salty, tangy taste of his skin. He noticed, though, that the sensation was not preferable to that of marmalade. He would take marmalade any day.

Rose stared at him.

Noticing her gaze, he stared back. "_What_?" he asked again – though it was a little muffled, due to the fingers in his mouth.

"I... can't believe you just did that," she gaped, snorting partly with amusement, partly with disgust. He blinked back at her, slipping his fingers slowly out of his mouth with a look across his face as though he'd just been caught red-handed at graffiti by the police. Tentatively he swallowed, offering the dish in his hand.

"I'm sorry; did you want some?"

Her look became mortified. "No, I did not _want some_! God, sometimes Doctor, you just have no sense of..." She trailed off, shaking her head laughingly while she failed to suppress a grin. "Well, just no sense!"

She shrugged and hopped back on to the path, beginning down its trail, her sandals crunching on the ground beneath her. The Doctor frowned after her, confused.

"What?" he asked again, stepping down to follow her. She answered with an exasperated sigh. "_What?_"

Rose snorted with laughter before turning to look at him as he fell into step beside her. "Just you. You have no clue, do you Doctor?"

"Well, depends what we're talking about," he reasoned with a shrug. "I think you'll find I have a clue about most things. Why, what have I done?"

"That... thing with the honey. And the fingers."

"Oh! You mean this?"

He repeated the action, this time merely to see the irritation on Rose's face. She shook her head at him, walking on.

"You know, I was beginning to wonder where all the honey in the TARDIS had got to. Guess now I know."

He grinned at her, drying his hands on his toga and curling the pot easily into a hidden pocket.

"Actually, I haven't tried that with honey before. Usually it's just jam. Strawberry, blackcurrant, raspberry, damson – ooh, and marmalade. Can't _tell _you how nice a good bit of marmalade is."

Rose blinked at him in disbelief.

"Remind me never to put anything from the TARDIS kitchen on my toast."

"Who said anything about the kitchen?" the Doctor instantly countered, wiggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Then he was grinning again, ignoring Rose's blush. "Anyway, who says you can pig out on chocolate biscuits in your room, but I can't eat my jam? Where's the justice in that?"

"I don't pig out on – "

"I've seen the crumbs, Rose," he argued with a wave of his hand, somehow managing to dart in front of her and lead her down the track. "You can't go denying it: I know what you get up to when you think my back's turned. Eyes and ears everywhere, me. And not just in the TARDIS."

She blinked at him as she followed, not quite sure if he was joking or not. However, before she had the chance to ask, he wheeled around, grinned at her and grabbed her hand.

"There's a beach..." he smiled pleadingly, his eyes bright. "Just down there... You like beaches. I'm sure you've mentioned them. Let's go for a stroll."

Not having much choice in the matter as he tugged her down the small trail, she just smiled and gave his hand a small squeeze. Her heart almost skipped a beat to feel him squeeze gently back, linger in it slightly.

In no time at all, they made their way down the precarious cliff edge and on to the white, sandy shores below. It was only small, more of a bay than a beach. Its sand was a startling white in colour, the sea a rich, creamy turquoise. Bright, sheer cliffs surrounded the bay from all sides, the headlands covered with dense trees. It was beautifully secluded.

The Doctor slipped out of Rose's hand, bending down and kicking off his sandals. With a grin, he straightened again, the cold sea air ruffling his hair like a hand. Rose did the same as he, sweeping her shoes into her hand as they walked. He began to slow, pushing his feet down into the depths of the warm, grainy, sand.

"Amazing," he muttered thoughtfully, completely lost with the coarse texture beneath his feet, the taste of the salt in the air, the smell of the sea on the wind and the wild roar of the waves chasing each other up the sand. "It's been _so_ long since I've been on a beach. Almost forgotten what it was like."

Rose watched him interestedly as he drew to a total stop, bouncing up and down on his feet, his soles making light indentations in the light, warm sand. She smiled when he looked up to meet her eye, then laughed as he grinned and continued to bounce like a four year old at a birthday party.

"It's just a beach, Doctor."

At this he stopped jumping and turned to her, his face entirely serious. With one quick stride he was standing over her, towering above her and looking down into her depths as a diver would a swimming pool. She had no choice but to look back up to him, eyes wide, face clear.

"Just a beach?" he echoed quietly, his warm breath tickling her face. Rose pretended not to notice the hairs that tingled down her spine. The last time he had been this close, he had – but that hadn't been him, she reminded herself quickly. That had been someone else entirely different: her mind playing tricks on her. But _this_ was definitely real. "This is more than just a beach, Rose," the Doctor went on, taking her hand. "This is billions and billions of shards of what makes your world whole. There are diamonds and crystals, and ions and atoms, and rocks and cliffs and the best part of every element you have, all broken off in to billions upon billions of tiny pieces, not one the same as its neighbour. On their own, these pieces are _nothing_. A mere speck in your tiny world, meaningless, pointless, useless. But together, Rose, they are so much more than that. They are the last remaining pieces of something that's clung on for dear life, desperate to fight against the tide, searching for anyone else in a world that's far too big to contemplate.

"A handful, sprinkled into the dying wind, can tell a thousand different stories, each fragment once a part of something greater, something that deserves recognition. There is no greater courage than that to let go of what you know to be safe and right and fall into something dangerous and new. And every, single grain of sand on this 'beach' has a story to tell, could sit you down for multiple lifetimes with the things it's seen and the wonders of your world. So before you go calling it 'just a beach', Rose, remember that it's home to the greatest part of wonder your solar system will ever come across. Life would be a lot easier for humans if they let go once in a while, travel to a greater plain of existence. But they're either too scared or too stupid to let go, terrified of what might happen and completely ignorant of the fact that it might just be better. Because it is, Rose. This place, this world - it's so much more than what you make of it. So much better. It's more than waking up and following a daily schedule. It's about letting go, giving in, being afraid and letting it all fall to pieces when the time comes. It's something that humans will never, ever learn."

He finished his speech looking out over the horizon, where the bright blue of the sky touched the hazy line of the sea.

"We won't?" Rose asked before she could help herself, astounded by the thought of millions of different rocks beneath her feet. She glanced down, enjoying the feel of the sand between her toes but now knowing it meant so much more. The Doctor looked back to her with sincerity.

"No. They'll spend their entire lives travelling out into the reaches of space – time, even. But they won't find what's really important, and they won't think to look right under their noses, either. Life has meaning far more subtle than what's out in that universe, and humans will spend their entire existence looking for it in the wrong place."

Rose considered this for a moment with a frown, searching the Doctor's face. "That's sort of... sad."

"It's very sad," he agreed with a sigh, starting to walk away from her. "But it's the way it is, I'm afraid. Human race – perfect in so many ways; but my God, do they know how to screw things up. Course, you're exempt from all that," he added with a smile.

Rose fell into step beside him, their path leading them closer and closer to one of the headlands either side of the bay.

"I am? How's that then, Doctor?"

She already knew, for the most part – she just wanted to hear him say it.

"You were willing to let go the moment you knew there was something else out there. While everyone else was busy hanging on for dear life to the things they thought were safe, you just jumped in without a second thought, started looking for an answer without worrying about where you might find it. So willing to see where the current would take you..." He turned to her now, his gaze soft. "I hardly had any choice in sweeping you up with me, did I? Not after you'd taken that risk. I couldn't just let you drown." A pause while he watched her, reaching for her hand and letting a small smile caress his lips. "So here you are. Stuck in the tide. With me."

She gave him a shy smile. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be – you know that, yeah? This... all of this. It's amazing. An' it wouldn't be the same if I didn't have you to share it with, so don't go thinkin' the travel's what it's all about."

Before Rose knew it, he was pulling her into a hug. A real, warm hug, his hands pulling her close, her arms looped around his neck. He buried his head in her soft curls, closing his eyes at how safe he felt with her in his arms. Just for a moment, his thoughts got caught up somewhere in his throat, leaving nothing but instinct. Instinct and the desire to let himself follow that instinct. Feeling her hug him back, clinging to him as if she would lose him if he let go, he let out a long, warm breath.

"Rose..."

She pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. Even with his hands on her waist, her hands tangled in his hair, he could feel the moment passing.

"Me, what, Doctor?" she asked softly, fighting away the spontaneous flush in her cheeks.

"I..." He swallowed painfully, finally breaking the eye contact and roaming his eye over the cliff in the distance instead. "I... didn't bring you here for Greek yoghurt," the Doctor admitted at last, putting in words where the others wouldn't come.

He slowly eased his hands away from her, leaving only his palm to take hers, then began padding away, pulling her with him.

"Didn't you?" Rose asked with a frown, sure that whatever he had been about to say, _that_ hadn't been it.

"No." He shook his head. "There's... someone I have to visit."

"Oh."

"There's a house." The Doctor nodded towards the dense trees up on the cliff edge while his mind fought to make coherent sentences. "Up there. Doesn't get many visitors. People think the man's insane."

"Poor thing," Rose said quietly. The Doctor was immediately touched by her compassion, but did nothing to let it show. "Why? What happened to him?"

"Oh nothing, really, as such. He's as blind as a bat and raves about things he can and can't see. Some say he's been touched by the devil, always going on about some sort of story of damnation to the human race. He stays living thanks to a little slave girl who comes to the house every now and then, makes sure he has enough food and such to keep him alive."

"That sounds awful. What sort of life is that?"

The Doctor turned and raised an eyebrow as they neared the bottom of the cliff. Rose could see, now they were close enough, stone steps, clearly cut into the rock. They spiralled all the way up, disappearing into the hedgerows above.

"It isn't," he replied simply with a small, sad sigh. "It isn't a life for anyone to live, whether they're human or not."

"Oh," Rose repeated thoughtfully. "So... alien, then? Threatening the great... er... rise of Greece, and whatnot? Bent on destroying the world, yeah? And we're gonna stop it?"

The Doctor hid a smirk before replacing his sandals and starting up the steps.

"Well, no. Not exactly. I'll be the first to admit he isn't from Earth, but he's been here so long now he probably doesn't even know."

Rose followed the Doctor up the windy, stone steps which curled around the cliff edge, listening to him intently as he told his story.

"He was separated from his kind a long time ago and had to transform his molecular structure to adapt to the habitat. Being trapped here with no one for company for so long would make anyone begin to doubt themselves, so as rumours go, it's probably not inaccurate to say that he's a little insane – but insanity is just a state of mind; usually other people's perception of you, and his mental capacity is amazing. He can pick up anything, from the tiniest movement of a bee's wing to a large vibration from a volcano on the other side of the world. And that's just Earth. He's blessed with a gift to see now, the present, as it really is, without the blanket over his eyes that most of us have. He can see in to far off stars and universes without any binds holding him back. It's sort of like what I can see, only about ten times magnified – useful if you want to know what's going on. A curse if it's not harnessed properly."

Rose blinked as they continued to climb.

"I thought you said he was blind?" she asked after a moment.

The Doctor smiled to himself. "It's not just your eyes that let you see things, Rose."

She fell into silent thought at this, trying to contemplate and imagine 'seeing' things without being able to see them. It confused her a little, and she shook her head in defeat. This was probably one of those long and complicated situations that she wasn't supposed to understand.

They reached the top of the cliff, the wind whipping at their faces. The Doctor drew up and took in a long, loud breath, before turning back to Rose. He pointed to a small, white cottage hidden amongst a clump of trees a few metres away.

"That's where he lives," he explained, treading over there with Rose in tow. "Apart from the little girl who comes to see him every now and then, he doesn't get any visitors. So don't be alarmed if he's a little aggravated at my arrival."

She raised an eyebrow. "Stupid question, but you've visited him before, right? This isn't just a... what d'you call it... a whim."

The Doctor grinned. "I've been in the habit of visiting him, yes. Time has no meaning for him – he doesn't live by Earth's rules. Must be a good few decades since I saw him last. Wonder how he's doing?"

"Right. And... Er... what's his name?"

The Doctor turned with a queried expression.

"Well, strictly speaking, the name for his kind actually has thirty seven syllables. When a new member of their kind grows from the ashes of a burned out star, they're already fully formed. No separate names at all. They recognise each other on feelings and emotions rather than anything silly like titles." At this, the Doctor beamed like he had just been offered work in an ice-cream van and to eat all the free ice-cream he wanted. "I call him Gregatio."

Rose blinked. "Greg_atio_?" she echoed, appalled.

The Doctor nodded, his grin widening. "Yup – Gregatio Thallery."

Rose shook her head laughingly as they walked on, her expression withering. "Let's hope you never have kids. God knows what sort of things you'd call 'em – they'd be teased for life!"

He frowned with mock offence and looked as though he might say something in return – but then he simply shrugged his shoulders and made for the house.

The house itself was a cottage bungalow. Smart, white walls, thin wooden door and, Rose noted, no glass in the windows. Instead, pale, thin rugs had been hung up, catching in the morning breeze. The roof was flat, and the entire thing looked as though it had been hollowed out of a giant brick. The gardens were surrounded in huge trees, the overgrown lawn was crisp and poplar trees were growing surreptitiously around. Just off the path to front door a cool water fountain was sparkling, twinkling patiently at the two visitors.

The Doctor marched up to the wooden front door as if he owned the place. He made for the handle, but seemed to change his mind: he brought his fist up and rapped three times on the wood with his knuckles.

Rose stood beside him, fiddling with the hem of her toga. The Doctor was in the habit of visiting strange aliens, and her imagination soared at whoever might be behind the door. However, at first, all she heard was a hoarse, rough voice of what sounded like an elderly man who was full of life but never got the chance to prove it.

"Go _away_!"

The Doctor jumped back with shock.

"It's me!" he protested, calling through the wood. "Don't say you don't recognise me!"

"Yeah, I know who you are!" the angry voice shouted back. "Knew you'd be cahmin' ter see me the moment yah set foot on this island. If you think ahm gonna be helpin' you aht any tahm soon, you got another thing cahmin! You can take yah stinkin' lady with yah, 'n'all. I ain't 'avin' any of it!"

There was an angry crash that sounded like the sound of a door slamming into something, then the sound of something heavy – like clay – shattering. This was shortly followed by a few enraged choice words from the angry blind man on the other side of the door – they were enough to make Rose flush with embarrassment, which was quite impressive considering where she grew up. The Doctor flinched with distaste before turning to her.

"He can be a little disagreeable," he muttered quietly. "Needs a bit of persuading every now and then. Fortunately, I'm just the man for the job. He'll love me."

And with that, he pushed the rickety little door open and stepped inside the house – just in time to be smacked full on in the face with a large, knobbly wooden walking-stick.

Next Chapter...

_**Chapter VI – Residue**_

_After a moment or two, he stepped back, seemingly pleased._

"_Well, that certainly explains a lot," he reasoned at last with a small smile._

_Rose frowned. "Explain what? What does?"_

_He put out a hand to touch her arm, in a comforting way, as if she were crying – and the answer, when it came, was to a different question._


	6. Residue

**Author's Note: **Well, I'm back and ready for more, as they say. Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy a holiday; I can gladly say that it was. Those of you who have been following and have put me on alert, I am highly flattered. Also, 91 reviews so far! Gosh! I've hardly started yet xD I am shocked and proud – I wasn't expecting that many! Thank you for being patient with me, and for all the wonderful, supportive, positive feedback. Honestly, it really does make me smile.

_For those who are interested, I've altered the summary of this story (because I was bored enough to write something that wasn't (too) clichéd) and added a few characters. It's all on Chapter One, if you're interested._

* * *

**Chapter VI - Residue**

* * *

When the Doctor opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was a splitting headache through his temples. This then shot to the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks, making him wince in pain. 

The room swam in to focus as he attempted to sit up – before a hand on his shoulder pushed him firmly back down. He obeyed without hesitation: his muscles ached so much he felt as though he'd been shoved in a cement mixer for several consecutive hours – which was strange, because he certainly didn't _remember_ doing that.

He was lying on a couch in a bright room, light filtering in through the translucent blind by the window. Everything was a creamy white in colour, apart from the single red rug on the floor. The walls, floor and ceiling were all bare stone, though there was a table in the centre of the room with a bowl of water.

He blinked slowly, gazing up into the face of a gentle Rose. She was sat in the crook of his stomach, leaning away from him as she stretched over and rang out a towel into the bowl. Then, tentatively, she turned back and leaned her body against his, dabbing the cool cloth to his forehead. The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment or two, feeding off the cooling temperature from the welcoming cloth. When he opened his eyes again, Rose was still watching him.

"I think," the Doctor told her quietly, his voice husky, "he broke my nose. Did he break my nose?"

With a small whimper, he went to reach a hand to the bridge – but he was stopped by Rose's hand around his wrist and instead lay there blinking at her.

"Never seen anyone take a stick to the head quite like that," she answered softly, leading his hand down again while she worked with his forehead. "Your nose is probably fine. You don't even have a bruise, though God knows how you managed to avoid it. Got quite a swing on him, that 'Gregatio'."

The Doctor frowned, then immediately regretted the action as he recoiled with pain.

"Easy there, tiger," Rose laughed before she could stop herself. The Doctor pouted – well, as much as he could, considering the circumstances, and the wince he gave simultaneously made it look more like he was grimacing.

"You don't have to take care of me, you know; I'm quite capable."

"_I'm_ not the one who got smacked in the face," she pointed out reasonably. "Now sit still – this'll probably hurt."

She pinched the bridge of his nose before he could argue, and my _God _did it hurt. The Doctor writhed and batted her hand away, tears coming to his eyes; but he didn't yell with the splitting pain. Far too proud.

"_What_ are you doing?" he asked incredulously, his voice hushed to a whimper, pain creeping through his face like the pinprick of a thousand angry needles.

Rose sat back with a judgemental frown.

"Checkin' to see if your nose really _was_ broken," she retorted, though her voice was not without sympathy. "Mum taught me how when I was younger. But it's fine – like you weren't even hit in the first place. Not a scratch or bruise anywhere. It probably doesn't even hurt that much."

The Doctor blinked at her, astounded, before finally crawling to a sitting position. The blood drained away from his head in an instant, making him feel quite dizzy. But at least the pain seemed to be subsiding.

"_You_ get hit in the head and tell me it doesn't hurt," he grumbled. Then, as if realising where he was for the first time, he frowned. "And speaking of things that make my head hurt, where has our little friend got to?"

"He got up to get you a drink," Rose replied, standing and depositing the towel next to the bowl.

The Doctor ran a tongue over his teeth, frowning as he thought. Before he could voice the questions forming in his mind, Gregatio returned. He was brandishing a clay cup filled with water and walking about like nothing would ever get in his way, despite the fact that his blind eyes were closed. He was dressed in a long, white toga – not unlike the Doctor's – and had a full-length white beard that spread right down his chest. His old, wizened face was etched with deep lines; but there was a youth about him that shone out, a youth that was reflected in his movements.

"Greggie!" the Doctor crooned, getting to his feet and spreading his arms. The blind man didn't need his sight to look at someone with contempt, and his wizened old face turned towards the Doctor, as if watching him through eyes he couldn't see.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," the old man grumbled, shoving the water carelessly towards the Doctor; it spilled over the floor with the movement. Rose noticed that his accent, which before had been a mixture of Australian, London and American, seemed to have entirely vanished now. He was natural as he spoke, with no strange dips in his speech. When she questioned the Doctor about it later, he just shrugged non-committally and suggested maybe it was a half-hearted attempt at a disguise.

"And I'm still not happy with you showing up here like this," Gregatio continued, the grumble still in his voice. "Still, good to know it's you and not some devilish prankster."

"That's who you thought I was?" the Doctor asked, mouth agape. "Someone come to play tricks on you?"

"Aye, and it wouldn't be the first time, and all. You wouldn't believe the amount of galactic visitors I get who think it would be fun to visit a man trapped in a skin that doesn't fit. Barely knew it was you 'til the young lady here had the sense to speak to me like I was a human being, explain things a bit. She even made me go and feel all guilty for hitting you across the head – not that you didn't deserve it. I mean honestly, who goes 'round knocking on people's doors like that..."

As Gregatio went on, waves of his arms to match his speech, the Doctor turned and positively beamed at Rose, his pride quite clear in his soft eyes.

"She's good like that," he smiled quietly, so only she could hear, meeting her gaze. But then it was broken as he turned back to his old friend, grinning at him as they sat: Rose and the Doctor back on the sofa, Gregatio cross-legged on the floor. Rose made to offer him a seat, but he waved her away with his hand before she'd even moved properly.

"You're a sweetheart, but I can't stand those things," he told her kindly, his face drawn into a smile. "Much rather down here. Get more in tune with the land, that way, too. Get more of a feel for what's going on, if you know what I mean."

Rose didn't, but she smiled politely and sat back in the sofa nonetheless.

Gregatio's head turned from the Doctor to Rose, as if he were watching them through his closed lids, and the briefest of smiles flickered across his old face. But then he became deadly serious as his gaze, such as it was, fell on the Doctor.

"Not that I don't appreciate the company, Doc," he began delicately, shifting on the floor slightly, "but what exactly are you doing here? Because your last visit wasn't exactly fun and frolics in the park. You've been through a couple of new faces since we last met, and I don't think they were down to some nice old experiences."

"So I can't just pop by to see an old friend? Greggie, I am mortally offended."

"Mortally wounded, too, if that bat's anything to go by," Rose put in, grinning. The Doctor turned to look at her as though she'd just told him two plus two was the capital of England. Gregatio chuckled.

"See you've picked up a feisty one there," he commented, his head jerking towards the young Londoner. "Bet she's useful for all sorts of things. Why, I remember when you brought that other girl to see me. What was her name? Jack? Queen? Oh yes, I remember: Ace. Now _she_ was – "

"Er, yes, well, best not to live in the past, hmm?" the Doctor cut across quickly, shifting his gaze back to the man on the floor and ignoring Rose's slightly offended look. "Doesn't do us any world of good, as you would know Greg. Listen, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. The TARDIS has been picking up all sorts of strange signals of late, and I'm not sure where they're coming from. It's like there's something out there that wants my attention, but doesn't want to just come up and talk to me. Rose, be a dear and fill this up for me, will you?"

He waved her the clay mug that Gregatio had brought out to him, now emptied of its contents. Rose blinked at him with a frown.

"You're kidding," she countered, looking from the cup to the Doctor. "Do I look like your slave?"

"No, but she's wandered off, and _someone_ has to fill the place," he replied without missing a beat. "May as well be you – you're so much prettier than she was. And funnier. And clever...er..."

The Doctor watched her with an appealing, small smile, his lashes blinking to and fro across his eyes; it was impossible to deny him. She gave a small sigh and cocked her head. Gregatio listened to the exchange with interest.

"Anyway," the Doctor went on, still smiling to her and holding the cup still, "I'm an invalid now. I can't very well stand up and go hunting for water if I'm going to collapse every couple of – "

"All right, all right, I'm goin'," Rose half-snapped, grinning and grabbing the mug from him. "But if I get eaten by a lion, or whatever, I'm _so_ comin' back to haunt you."

Gregatio laughed softly as she stood and began to wander around the room.

"There's a fountain in the garden," he said, not bothering to turn his head. "You'll have seen it when you came in, I expect. Shouldn't take too long."

Rose left the room via the front door, making her way out into the garden. As soon as she was out of earshot, the Doctor's smile faded instantly and his attention became centred on Gregatio.

"I'm guessing you know why I'm here," he muttered, his voice low and serious. The old man nodded.

"That I do. Surprised you brought her with you, actually, considering what happened last time. I had a right old time trying to keep everything hush-hush; that Nitro-9 was really powerful stuff."

"Rose isn't like that," the Doctor countered instantly. "She doesn't do explosives. Well, not dangerous explosives. _Well_, not when there are other people around. Like I said; she's different."

"She is," Gregatio agreed quietly. He was silent for a moment or two as the Doctor considered him. "She's very different. You and me both know it, don't we Doctor?"

The Doctor nodded, knowing full well that the blind man knew he agreed. He turned to check out of the door before replying in a hushed tone.

"I wasn't completely lying when I said the TARDIS was picking up on some strange signals. But they're not alien. They're from the inside – it's Rose. It's Bad Wolf."

Gregatio nodded, as if he had been expecting this.

"She has no idea of Bad Wolf, then?"

"Not in the slightest," the Doctor confirmed, shaking his head. "Doesn't remember a thing. Doesn't even know she took the Heart into her, that she sacrificed everything to save the world."

"No," the old man croaked, shaking his head with disagreement. The Doctor frowned.

"No?" he echoed, confused.

"Not to save the world; to save you. The world was a bonus – it was you she was thinking about."

"I was afraid of that," the Doctor sighed, sinking back into the chair. "She called me 'her Doctor'. She thinks that... we're more..."

"...Than just friends?" Gregatio offered when his friend seemed unable to. The Doctor's face fell.

"No!" he answered hastily. "No, she doesn't think that. That's not what this is about. But she _does_ think she knows me, that we're... two peas in a pod, I suppose. An oversized blue pod that happens to be able to whiz around space and time. She thinks she's special and that she'll be around forever. It breaks my heart to have to tell her otherwise, so I don't – but it'll just hurt more when the time comes, and I don't want to be the one who has to pick up the pieces."

"You're thinking about this too much, Doctor," the old man answered, waving his hand as if to physically swat the proposition away. "And you're not giving her enough credit, either. She's a clever one, that Rose. She knows that there's far too much in that crazy head of yours for her to even contemplate, let alone try and figure out. And she knows that there'll be an end, too."

There was a pause while Gregatio got to his feet; the Doctor considered what he'd been told with a frown. The old man shuffled across the floor and put a comforting hand out on the Doctor's shoulder, angling his head to look down to the youthful man's face.

"But that's not why you came to see me," he went on, the smallest of frowns passing across his aged face. "And we don't have that much time. So let me tell you what you came here to hear. The interference your TARDIS ship is picking up – from what I can see, yes, it _is_ Rose. She's suffering lingering effects from the Time Vortex."

The Doctor's eyes widened and he stood, shrugging the man's hand from his shoulder. "But... it can't!" he almost cried. "It can't be that. If she still has any traces of the Vortex in her, it'll be killing her."

"Not necessarily," Gregatio replied. "You're doing that thinking thing again. You want to listen to what your body's telling you, not go jumping to conclusions. You took the danger from her, took the physical manifestation of the Time Vortex away. But it will have left a residue, as all things do. A connection to the TARDIS. A connection to you. It's not something that will just disappear with a wave of your hand. It'll stay there for as long as time, not doing anything in particular."

"But if something triggers it," the Doctor continued, picking up on the train of thought and beginning to pace, "then she could tap in to that power again. That knowledge. That danger. It's still a part of her, whether she knows it or not, and though for the moment it's not dangerous or affecting her in any way..."

"It could," Gregatio nodded. "And there's nothing you can do about it, Doctor. It's a part of who she is now; it would be like trying to change her DNA."

"So... that's it, then? I just have to sit around and wait for her to die, is that it?"

He was angry, accusation in his voice, as if the old man had inflicted the punishment himself.

"There's nothing more you can do than wait and watch. If the signals become stronger, or if Rose starts to experience anything that's vaguely out of the norm, then you'll have to find exactly what the cause of that problem is and stop it."

"Can't I find the cause now?" the Doctor challenged with vigour. "Because if it's a matter of sitting around and waiting, I'm not just going to watch as something sneaks up on her and kills her."

The old man gave a wry smile, laughing a little through his nose. "I think you're being a littlemelodramatic. It isn't life threatening now. She's in no mortal danger, and it's not going to creep up unexpectedly. There will be warnings and signs." His face, though, suddenly became dark and a worried frown creased his already wrinkled forehead. "But if you do anything to trigger it, _you_ might be the cause of the pain, Doctor. I wouldn't advise addressing the issue until it becomes critical; you might create more problems than you can solve. _You _might be the one who pushes her to death."

The Doctor turned angrily to his advisor with a face set in stone. "So, wait for a signal that she's getting worse, _then_ leap into action?"

Gregatio nodded wisely. "She is safe, for the moment. And there's no reason for her not to stay that way. The residual energy has been with her ever since Bad Wolf, and nothing has come of it yet. She'll be fine."

"Seems a bit like shutting the door after the horse has bolted, if you ask me," the Doctor muttered, running a hand through his thick head of hair. Then he suddenly frowned and looked up, looking straight at the old man. "And that's another thing," he continued hoarsely, his eyes narrowing. "How do you know about Bad Wolf? It won't be happening for another few hundred millennia, and you can't see the future."

"You know my gift. I can see your mind. Not all – most of it is too complex for even me to understand. But memories and the like; I can see well enough of those to draw an accurate picture."

"Yes, and from it make the prediction of Rose's death," he retorted ironically, collapsing back down into the sofa and throwing his hands in the air. "She shouldn't have to deal with that. She shouldn't have to deal with any of it. She doesn't deserve it; maybe I should never have picked her up in the first place."

"Rose has seen more with you than the entire human race will see throughout half of their existence. You aren't the one to decide what's fair and what's right, Doctor, no matter what you say. She wanted to come with you from day one; leaving her on Earth would have been the cruel thing to do. For both your sakes. And this business with the residual Time Vortex: it's not life threatening. In fact, if anything, it will help her. The TARDIS is more than just psychically connected to her now, and will offer as much protection as it can. No one will even notice that it's there."

"The TARDIS did," the Doctor shot back shortly. "There's been nothing secure on the scanners for weeks. Why now is it suddenly picking up on a stronger wavelength? There were a couple of blips earlier on, here and there, but I didn't think anything of them. Now I'm not so sure."

"Listen – you're worried about her, and I can see that. It's entirely natural. But don't let whatever care you have for the girl get in the way of what you know and how to help her. Yes, there are effects of the Time Vortex that haven't been a problem but by the looks of things, might become so. It's a dangerous situation; initiate it and it'll be the death of her – "

" – Thank you, mister optimist – "

" – But you know as well as I do that whatever happens, you'll find a way out of it. You'll save her, one way or another. Because that's what you do."

Gregatio sat next to his friend, turning to him as a father would a son.

"She's just..." the Doctor sighed, closing his eyes. "I can't lose her. I _won't_ lose her. I'd die first."

"Why?" He seemed genuinely curious; the Doctor opened his eyes, shocked.

"_Why_?"

A million reasons burst into his mind, all fighting each other to make it to the front.

_Because she's my friend. Because I travel with her. Because she means something to me. Because I care about her. Because I've gone through my entire life losing people that mean something to me and it just hurts too much to go through again. Because letting her go would be admitting defeat. Because I _can't_ let her go. Because when I was alone with no one else in the universe, she was there. Because she's not afraid of who I am or what I do. Because she trusts me. Because every single time she wakes up and comes to find me, she looks more beautiful than I ever thought anyone could look. Because she makes me laugh. Because she makes me a cup of tea when she thinks I'm tired. Because she nearly died for me. Because she'd rather I save the world than save her. Because she reaches for my hand when she's scared. Because she can persuade me to do anything she wants, but never uses that power over me. Because she's so full of love for everything around her that it breaks my heart. Because she's too good for me. Because... Because..._

In the end, he settled for the only reason that would make an adequate answer.

"Because she's Rose."

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

Scooping up a cup of water from the fountain was fairly easy. It was what happened after that that took the time. Rose stood up and gazed about herself, from the beautiful trees and the gorgeous flowers, her sight following a small path that snaked down the hill and out of sight. The path from the cliff came up between the trees, though it was impossible to even tell there was a beach down there from where she was stood. 

While Rose was admiring the scenery, there was a rustle in the bushes from somewhere behind her. Firstly thinking it was the wind in the trees, she took no notice of it. However, when the culprit persisted, she almost jumped out of her skin in shock. What she saw when she turned made the colour fall from her cheeks like a waterfall.

It was just a second, if that. Just short enough to make her wonder if she'd even seen anything in the first place. But when her gaze fell upon the definite outline of Mickey, her heart skipped a beat and the breath caught in her throat. She dropped the cup.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone again. Rose cursed her imagination for playing such a trick on her: Mickey was gone, left in that parallel world, and he wasn't coming back. There was no way _to_ get him back. That thought, of course, reminded her of everything he would miss in her, everything that she would miss in him. The world he was trapped in... there wasn't a Rose there. What if he changed his mind? What if he suddenly realised that that wasn't where he wanted to be at all, that he would give anything just to see the Doctor and her again so they could take him away? The thought was heart-breaking.

When she bent down to pick up the dropped cup, Rose felt the tears begin to spill over her cheeks. They caught her quite off guard, without warning, and she soon found herself sniffing violently and wiping vehemently at her stubborn eyes. She had cried all she could bear to for Mickey, and starting again now wouldn't help anyone. He was safe and happy, she kept reminding herself, and he had chosen a world that was good for him – even if it _was _a world without her.

Rose made a scoop for more of the twinkling water, taking in a long breath. As she walked back to the house again, her footsteps padding on the soft grass, she wondered what Mickey would be up to at that moment. Then she smiled at the thought that he wouldn't even be born yet, parallel world or no.

Lost in her thoughts as she was, she hovered slowly in the doorway. Gregatio and the Doctor were talking, and she could tell just by the tone of his voice that he was worried about something. And slightly upset. Then she heard the Doctor say her name; her thoughts came to a standstill as she listened to the conversation.

"_Why_? Because... Because she's Rose."

She felt slightly awkward and embarrassed as she realised exactly why the Doctor had sent her out to fetch another drink – there was something he had wanted to talk about without her there; he'd wanted to talk about _her_. However, the conversation that followed was enough to keep her glued by the door and listening, despite feeling guilty about it.

"She's a human child from far in your history – yet you speak of her as if she were of great importance."

"She _is_ of great importance," the Doctor defended hotly. Rose felt a smile creep over her lips. "And she's _not _a child. She's coped with more in a matter of months than anyone else would be able to handle in a lifetime. You said so yourself. And I'm not just talking about humans."

A pause, in which Rose found she was holding her breath.

"You have never spoken so passionately for even your own kind."

"Well, I – she's... different."

"So you keep saying." Gregatio's voice was tinged with a smile. "But you still have yet to explain why."

"My own kind are dead," the Doctor spat in return, as if answering a completely different question. "They died at my hands because I was the only one who could do anything about it. It wasn't big, or clever, it was just right and I was the only one who could do it, and if that meant being alone then that was a price I was willing to pay. But now it's... Now there's her. I know I shouldn't rely on her the way I do, because this isn't the sort of burden she should ever carry – but she's there and she's willing, and it's so, so tempting to share the weight I carry on my shoulders. I've been alone for so long that things with her are both too much and not enough. She's more than I ever could have asked for in a companion. I don't know what to do. I really don't."

"A companion? You compare her to the likes of the others?"

"Don't you?"

Gregatio let out a small chuckle, his laugh soft. Rose shifted from one foot to the other, increasingly aware of the fact that she was hovering on a conversation she was not meant to hear.

"I think she is a girl in danger and you are scared about what that might mean. You knew I couldn't help, yet still you came."

_Danger?_ Rose mouthed to herself with a frown. The Doctor took in a wearied sigh – she could hear him sucking it through his teeth as if he were breathing through a straw, then out again in a long breath.

"I wanted you to meet her," he sighed, a subtle hint of sadness tinged in his voice. "And if what you tell me is true, then it's just as well I did."

"I'm guessing you won't be telling her?"

The Doctor snorted. "You must be mad – no offence, of course. I'll keep watching the signals, see if they change, keep an eye on her. But no, she's safer not knowing. I think we all are."

"On that one, Doctor, I think you are probably right. And no offence to you, either, but you had probably best be off. I've told you all I know and it's up to you what you do with it – but before you go... would you mind sending the girl in so I can talk to her for a moment?"

"Want to make sure she's good enough for me?" the Doctor joked, and Rose heard him climb to his feet. Quickly, so as not to be caught eavesdropping, she darted back outside to the garden to wander back to the fountain, leaving the Doctor to say his goodbyes to his friend.

When she heard him pad gently across the grass behind her, she didn't turn. She waited for him to draw up close behind her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder, speak to her softly.

"I was beginning to wonder where you'd got to."

When Rose did turn, the Doctor was so close she almost spilled the cup over his chest; but he was fast and caught it with the hand he moved from her shoulder.

"Hello," he smiled softly, his head cocking slightly.

"Hi." Rose blinked up into his calm, smiling face and felt her heart almost skip a beat. Why did he insist on being this close? "All done?"

There was a moment that lasted an eternity as he met her eye and gazed at her for a minute, perfectly content with the cool air lashing around them.

"Not quite," the Doctor replied at last, taking a slight step back. Rose was pleased for it, having felt quite claustrophobic jammed between his chest and the water fountain. "Gregatio wants a word with you. At least, I assume that's what he meant. I'll wait out here."

Rose, who knew all too well that the old man wanted to talk to her, smiled and shuffled inside, feeling the Doctor's eyes burn on her back as she did so. She knocked on the door as she entered the living room. Gregatio turned and smiled to her, and Rose got the distinct impression that he was able to watch her through closed lids.

"Don't be afraid to approach an old man," he said kindly, standing and gesturing for her to come closer. She did so, with some hesitation – why would he want to speak to _her_? Was he going to tell her about the danger he and the Doctor had been discussing?

She was surprised when his hands came out towards her, reaching to cup her face. Frozen half in wonder, half in fear, Rose stood as the old man brushed his thumbs carefully across her features, feeling the contour of her cheeks, the pout of her lips, the curve of her eyes. Despite the fact he was repeating the same physical act the Doctor had once done, she knew that this was for an entirely different reason.

After a moment or two, he stepped back, seemingly pleased.

"Well, that certainly explains a lot," he reasoned at last with a small smile.

Rose frowned. "Explain what? What does?"

He put out a hand to touch her arm, in a comforting way, as if she were crying – and the answer, when it came, was to a different question.

"This Doctor of yours... He's a worrier this time around. He'll worry about you as long as you are together – but that is something you already know, isn't it? Even before you overheard our little conversation a moment or two ago."

She felt herself blush, felt her heart miss a beat, as if she had been caught skipping class by the headmaster. Somehow, Gregatio seemed to notice, and he chortled.

"Do not worry," he continued with a smile, "I won't mention it to a soul; and perhaps it is best that you heard in any case. But come now, the reason I called you back – I have a message, one that you must take care to listen to."

Rose nodded, then realising her action, added, "Yeah. Of course. What is it?"

"When the Doctor asks, answer that you are ready. Even if you do not feel it, answer that you have always been ready and that you will not let him give up."

"Right," she agreed with a hasty nod of the head. "Er... When he asks me what?"

"When the time is right, you will know. Now go to him, and do not worry what the future between you and he holds. And even more importantly, do not tell him what I have told you. Best not to tell anyone; just remember it and believe it."

He was leading her towards the door gently, ushering out of the house. Rose, who was very confused at just why he had wanted to see her in the first place, obliged without question. When they reached the front door, he turned to her one last time.

"Do not give up hope in the Doctor – whatever happens, he will realise the answer to his questions. Let's just hope it isn't too late."

"Y'know, you might get a lot more visitors if you weren't so cryptic," Rose mumbled, and he laughed.

"Oh, I can definitely see why he is so fond of you," he chuckled. "So, keep him waiting no longer. Bid him my farewells, and tell him not to drop by again without at least some warning. Mind you, I'll take any excuse to hit him over the head."

"You an' me both," Rose grinned. Then, not quite sure why, she stepped forward and embraced the old man in a quick hug. "And take care, yeah? I get the feeling the Doctor'll want you 'round for a while."

"The same goes for you. Tell him goodbye for me."

She cocked her head slightly when she heard the emphasis on his parting words – but putting it down to the TARDIS' translation circuit, she said goodbye and trotted down the path to find the Doctor. When she turned back to wave, more out of habit than anything else, the front door was closed.

However, her frown faded when the Doctor slung an arm around her shoulder, and she looked up into his smiling face as they started back down the track.

"You think he'll be all right?" she asked, and he was touched by her worry.

"Yes – a man like him can take care of himself. What sort of things did you talk about, then?" He beamed his disarming smile as they began to tread over to the path down the cliff, catching her eye mischievously. "Was it about how pretty you think I am?"

Rose snorted. "Yeah Doctor, that's _exactly _why he called me back. Got it in one."

"And?"

She blinked at him before turning to make her way down the narrow steps. "You _do_ realise that was sarcasm, right?"

"Of course!" he grinned behind her. "But that doesn't stop me dreaming. You never know; one of these mornings I might wake up and you'll stop being completely immune to my charms. You'll fall into my arms, crying, 'Oh Doctor, Doctor! I can't _believe_ I've lived my life without you! Please, marry me this second!'"

The high-pitched squealing voice he attempted as an impression of Rose sent them both into fits of giggles – they were lucky neither of them slipped. But both made it to the bottom of the cliff in fairly good health, and even better spirits.

"You wish," Rose laughed, happy when his hand found hers of its own accord.

He turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised but the smile clear across his face. "Sometimes, yes."

Her heart lurched somewhere into the pit of her stomach at his sincere response. She couldn't take her questioning eyes off him as they walked, her smile completely faded. Did he have any idea of the implications of his words? She assumed he didn't as the grin returned to his face and he continued. He seemed completely oblivious. "I wish for a lot of things, every now and then. Little things, big things; doesn't make much difference, though. It all ends the same way."

Rose turned, questioning, the slightest of frowns beginning to pull on her face. "What do you wish for, Doctor?"

He gave a small laugh through his nose and shook his head – but he didn't answer. Rose didn't push it.

They walked back to the TARDIS in companionable silence, Rose content with the beautiful scenery around them and walking through the marketplace again. The Doctor refused to stop and browse, claiming that in his entire nine hundred year existence, he had never before known someone who could spend multiple hours shopping for things they didn't need. She pouted in return, teasing him of his 'old age', before they had both laughed and moved on.

She wasn't aware of the darkening thoughts clouding the Doctor's mind like a storm. He kept glancing at her, worried, as if expecting her to fall down dead right in front of his eyes. Though nothing he could see was physically different in Rose, there was something about her that made him wonder. Something that had changed.

At the first sign of anything out of the ordinary, he was taking her straight down to the Med Lab and explaining to her about Bad Wolf. If there were lingering effects, she had to know and he had to fix them.

It wasn't surprising when he wished, for both their sakes, that nothing would come of it.

He had no idea.

* * *

Next Chapter...

_**Chapter VII – Waking Revelation**_

"_Doctor," she said firmly, her voice as calm and clear as she could make it. He continued to advance towards her and reached out his spidery hand to her cheek. She flinched at his touch – he was freezing, like ice. _

"_You shouldn't be here..." he growled dangerously, his face darkening._

"_Doctor, you're scarin' me!"_


	7. Waking Revelation

**Author's Note**: You don't want a bio of what's going on in my life, I'm quite sure. So I'll tell you this. I procrastinate far too much. By the time I got around to editing this chapter, the new term had started and, well... A levels equals a tonne of work. I'm having to survive on my already written chapters. I don't have the time to write any more, despite the fact this story keeps whizzing around my head. So basically, I have another two chapters written, but after that, expect no more for a while. October half term maybe. If you're lucky. Probably around Christmas if you're not. Sorry guys :(

* * *

**Chapter VII – Waking Revelation**

* * *

The Doctor was sitting on the grille floor of the TARDIS, his elbows draped tiredly over his knees. His long, brown trench coat was strewn messily beside him, torn off in a hurry when he had dived inside the console controls, sonic screwdriver at the ready. The latest fixing session now over, he leaned back slightly and puffed out a long, weary breath. Rose had disappeared into the TARDIS' rooms, lost somewhere in the rabbit warren of corridors. She didn't need to know that the temperature core had blown a fuse, or that the translation circuit had had a minor blip, or that his psychic connection to the Vortex had suddenly dipped then rocketed, sending his inner signals and senses all over the place. He didn't need to worry her with that sort of thing.

Everything was fixed now, of course – and where his screwdriver hadn't worked, his nimble fingers and clever re-wiring had.

What was bothering him most, however, was not so much the problems themselves as what they meant. The problems were fine. Common. Easy. But so many at once – it was a worry. They just never seemed to end. When he had finished one, two or three more seemed to crop up in its place. It was a time lord's nightmare.

The Doctor suppressed a yawn, bringing a hand to his wearied eyes. He screwed up his face as he ran his fingers harshly across his lids, bringing them to meet at the bridge of his nose. He dropped his hand, sniffed, opened his eyes, then craned his neck backwards, stretching it towards the ceiling. He hadn't been this tired in months.

"Thought you could do with a cuppa."

He jumped, surprised by the voice, and turned to see Rose leaning against the doorframe watching him. She had a steaming mug in her hand, and was holding it out towards him.

"Thank you," he replied earnestly, his voice stiff with tiredness. How long had he been working? Felt like a few hours, at least.

The Doctor climbed heavily to his feet, stretching his arms back and pushing his chest forward. He looked to Rose with a queried expression. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," she replied quickly as he reached and took the cup from her, hovering his nose above the steaming liquid. "Yeah, everythin's fine."

"You sure?" he asked carefully, watching her over the rim as he took a small sip. How did she manage to make it just the right temperature? Every mug he'd ever made was always too hot, too milky, too sweet. She obviously outranked him in the tea-making department. Which was fair enough, considering he had never really made a habit of drinking it until his regeneration.

"Perfectly," Rose confirmed, though she didn't sound entirely sure. "What 'bout you? You alright?"

"Yeah," he sighed, lifting his head to glance back at the bare controls. He had left the front panel open and all the workings and wires of his beloved machine could be seen shining out. He grimaced with guilt, setting the mug down and hopping over to close the sheet. The TARDIS seemed pleased, whirring quietly as he did so. He pulled up again with a frown, his hands resting on his hips. "Can't say the same for the TARDIS, though," he said worriedly, more to himself than to Rose. "She's been complaining a lot recently."

"Yeah?" Rose asked from behind him.

Strange, he wondered idly, how such a simple word could mean so many things. A confirmation; a question; a request.

"Just little things. Nothing to worry about."

The Doctor turned to her, smiling gently, before bounding over and making a grab for his mug. With a grin he watched Rose and took another sip, the steam rising and warming him, before setting the mug down again on the controls and gazing tenderly at his machine.

As if to make his previous point, one of the screens started beeping and an angry, red light began to flash. The Doctor was transformed into instant work mode, his face becoming dark as he darted to the keyboard, tapping in foreign commands and controls. He muttered something Rose had never heard before, his mouth curling around the alien syllables and strange accent of his words. She wondered why the TARDIS wouldn't translate it for her.

"Something wrong?" she mused worriedly, noting the Doctor's deep-set frown and tensed shoulders. He barely glanced up as he worked, moving to a small dial and twisting it, before heading back to the keyboard. The atmosphere in the room suddenly dropped and Rose felt a chill shiver through her. She watched, her worry becoming more pronounced, as the Doctor continued to move frantically around his ship with hands and arms everywhere. He seemed not to know what to do with himself.

Then he whirled around, his full attention pinpointed on Rose. She felt unnerved, a fox in amongst the hunt.

"There's a signal," he said roughly, his voice suddenly as ragged as he looked. "Asking for help. Calling out. Practically screaming. Ringing out through time and space, desperate for someone to reply... No, wait... not reply..." His gaze intensified, his look wild with frenzied thought. His hand paused in amongst his tangle of hair; then it suddenly dropped to his side again, and he took a heavy step towards Rose. She was slightly taken aback at his sudden change in nature. "Someone to hear. That's all it wants. Shouting its message to someone who will hear it. Anyone." The Doctor looked back to the screen again. "It's dying. Screaming in pain. A warning – run as fast as you can. And don't look back."

With a violent movement, he pounced on a nearby control, slamming down on a leaver with vigour. His mug of tea went crashing to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces – he didn't even notice.

The lights in the TARDIS flickered for a moment, dimming with the sudden, harsh treatment. The Doctor barked out an order for Rose to turn that dial over there, hold that button, push that lever. He then shouted to hold on, because the landing would not be pleasant.

An alarm that Rose had never heard before began to sound, a terrifying klaxon blaring loudly through the control room, deafening her ears. She shut her eyes as the sound began to rip through her, bringing sore tears to her worn eyes. The room lurched and shuddered around her, but she listened for the Doctor and obeyed his commands. His face was set in stone; he kept checking the screen again and again as he worked, flicking switches, tapping further commands into the keyboard. Upon hearing the alarm, he dived further onto a mixture of dials and levers, working deep and complicated combinations into the heart of his machine. After a moment or two, the wailing stopped, and they were left with an unearthly hiss as steam began to pour from one of the pipes running the length of the TARDIS walls.

The Doctor stopped and looked up, his face angry and worried, his breathing coarse. He shouted for silence and the ship obeyed. They stopped moving. The lights went out. Deafening silence drowned them. All that was around them was an eerie, opaque gem glow, lighting up the Doctor's face like a ghost. Half his features were shadowed, giving a lean and deathly look about him. When he turned to Rose, she was shaking with fear.

"Doctor – what's goin' on?" She was desperate and pleading; scared not of him, but of what had just happened. The TARDIS had crashed before, but this – this was different. She could sense it in the air.

He turned to her abruptly and paced back and forth, practically spitting the words out as he spoke them. "That signal I just picked up: the planet it's from should be deserted. Nothing, no one. Lost, dead, empty. It's uninhabitable. The microbes in the atmosphere destroy any life form that touches it. It's a defence mechanism, but it has the consequence of no life. Hetica, that's what the planet's called. The closest place to it is six billion light years away, meaning that it's almost completely deserted. Almost; but not quite. There's something big there, Rose." He took a step towards her, his eyes an unnatural green glow in the light of the TARDIS. His mouth was curled into a malevolent smile, his teeth more bared than anything else. Rose found herself stumbling backwards, away from him, as he advanced, his eyes gleaming as dangerous shadows passed over his sunken face. "Something very, very, very big. It's dangerous and it's calling to me and if I don't answer, it's going to keep getting at me until I crack."

He brought a hand up and looked at it, wiggling his fingers like the legs of a spider. "At me and at me, digging deeper, deeper and deeper until there's nothing left to dig. I'll just be skin and bone, alive and existing, but alone again. Always alone." The Doctor's eyes shot to hers and Rose took in a breath as she felt the cool wall of the TARDIS behind her back. The Doctor licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows once, his face lighting up with a lunacy she had never seen in him before.

"Doctor," she said firmly, her voice as calm and clear as she could make it. He continued to advance towards her and reached out his spidery hand to her cheek. She flinched at his touch – he was freezing, like ice. Rose tried to move her face from his hand, but his fingers tightened, giving her a silent warning.

"You shouldn't be here..." he growled dangerously, his face darkening.

"Doctor, you're scarin' me!"

"Oh, but that's the point, Rose. Scare you away, maybe I'll stop seeing you in my nightmares. Scare myself, sometimes. Screams and wails in the night that I can't control. All those thousands. They burned, like the sun. Like Gallifrey. Like you."

He threw his head back and let out a terrifying laugh, an echo of cackling, manic insanity that sent a shiver down her spine. Rose clamped her eyes shut, forcing back a rising tide of emotion in her stomach. She let out a breath and felt his hand disappear from her cheek, felt the wall fade from behind her, heard a distant hum and gentle whirr come back to swallow her up. She gulped, afraid to open her eyes, afraid that the Doctor might be standing over her with death in his eyes. She clenched her fists.

"Rose...?"

The voice she heard was gentle and quiet, scared almost. She heard the sound of footfalls on metal as he stepped towards her, and a tender hand on her cheek. It was warm and gentle, a complete contrast to his previous touch. She gasped and flinched, pulling herself away from him. Then she opened her eyes.

The Doctor was standing in front of her, his face smooth and unreadable. However, a storm of worry was clouding his eyes as he watched her, his breathing slow. He was wearing the coat that had previously been on the floor and the lights in the TARDIS were back, washing him over with a pale orange glow. His movements were calm and tranquil, and everything was as it should be.

She blinked and shook her head, trying to make sense of the memory that shrouded her mind. The Doctor dropped his hand and held a worried breath, watching while Rose raised a hand to her temple as if trying to physically tap in to her thoughts. When she opened her eyes again, he was still standing there, watching her, unmoving, his arms now folded across his chest.

"What... happened?"

He took in a breath and studied her, his face sombre. "I thought the TARDIS picked up a signal that it shouldn't have picked up. Turned out to be a glitch, that's all. We all have our off days. I asked you to come over for a minute, to ask you what you thought of the screen. You didn't answer, and when I turned to look, you were locked in a silent scream. I've... I've never seen you so scared." Carefully, slowly, he took a step towards her and reached a hand to touch affectionately at her upper arm. She quivered, and he dropped it. He tried to relax his face into a pale smile, but it had faded by the time he asked his question. "Your turn. What happened?"

"I..." Rose swallowed, her mouth dry. She sniffed back the stubborn tears which had risen and glanced to the ceiling, hugging herself for comfort. She looked back again, and happened to catch a glimpse of something sitting on the flat unit of the controls. The Doctor's mug of tea. "You said there was... a signal... and then we sorta... crashed," she tried to explain, limp expressions with her hand to try and outline the motions. "You told the ship to be quiet, then everythin'... stopped. There was this weird glow an'... you started talkin' about... I'm not really sure what about. Then you looked at me and sorta..."

She extended her arm to bring her fingers lightly to the Doctor's face, mirroring what he had done her. She met his eye and continued. "You said I shouldn't be here. That I burned, like Gallifrey. That look... You were... I thought you were gonna..."

She let out a terrified sob. The Doctor closed his eyes for a fleeting second and let out a sigh, before leaning forward and pulling her into a hug, his head resting on her shoulder. He felt her shake in his arms, felt damp tears begin to stain his open shirt. He kept his eyes open in a worried frown as he settled her, whispering gently in her ear.

"Shhh. It's all right, Rose. Everything's all right. I'm right here. It's all right. Shhh..."

She calmed slightly, but he still held her, keeping her close to him, breathing softly on her skin. She was scared and he knew, no matter what had physically happened, that he was the cause of it. In her mind, he was now a danger.

"I'll fix it," he promised, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her back. "I promise you, Rose. Whatever I can do, I'll fix it."

The only sign that she'd head him was a further sob into his shoulder.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

It was later, after Rose had calmed down and explained a little more about what had happened, that she was sat on a bed in the Medical Lab. She swung her legs backwards and forwards over the side, the way that a small child does when they're bored.

The Doctor had been darting around, scanning her with instruments she was sure would never have passed for 'medical' in an _actual_ Doctor's surgery. She'd had wires and scans and, once or twice, injections. But all the results had come up 'negative', showing that she was fine and healthy, that everything was precisely how it should be, that there wasn't a thing wrong with her. She didn't even have a bruise.

"Doctor, I'm _fine_," she almost laughed, watching him scrunch up another test result and throw it towards the half-full bin. He looked up an met her eye before letting out a sigh.

He looked so funny – shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, jacket draped over the back of one of the chairs, spectacles, furrowed brow. Quite the 'doctor'.

"Yes, I know. That's what's so annoying," he replied bitterly, sinking back into one of the tall, metal chairs. He leant against the high back, taking off his glasses and reaching to stretch. He brought his hands to his face, massaging his eyes with his fingertips, before sliding them down and bringing them together in front of his mouth as if he were praying, his thumbs tucked neatly under his chin. His brown eyes darted to Rose again and he watched her look at him and smile. He couldn't return it.

Instead, he sighed again and slipped his fingers to follow a trail from the bottom of his nose to the base of his jaw, before linking them and dropping them to rest in his lap.

Rose slid off the bed and leant against it, her hair falling about her like a protective halo. The Doctor cocked his head.

"It just doesn't make _sense_," he cried for what must have been the seventeenth time.

"Yeah. You said."

She was smiling, amused by his behaviour. "I'm glad you find it so funny."

"Sorry," she mumbled, her smile fading. The Doctor groaned and tilted his head back, before getting to his feet and beginning to pace, pulling thoughtfully on his earlobe.

"Don't be sorry. _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. I'm just... I'm..."

"It's all right." She crossed the short distance between them and linked her arms comfortingly behind his neck, pulling him in for a quick hug. His surprise easily faded, and he held her close. He should be comforting her, not the other way around. Did she have any idea of the possible danger she was in?

Rose pulled back and dropped her hands, but stayed close, looking him in the eye. "You're just worried, yeah?"

"One of the many, many words." Then he caught her eye, all the sincerity in the world engraved into his look. "You're all right, aren't you? I mean, aside from the strange illusions. You feel fine? No headaches, no sickness, no dizziness?"

"Nope. Just me."

"Hmm."

He stepped away from her, picking up another sheet of test results to study them. His eyes moved over the page, but everything was reading perfectly. She was healthy – there was no doubt about it.

"Doctor, what's it all mean? What's goin' on?"

He looked up and smiled, set on making her as comfortable as possible. Waiting and watching was all very well, but if... whatever it was... was beginning to affect her state of mind, surely there was something he could do about it? But Gregatio's warning flashed violently into his mind... _If you do anything to trigger it, _you_ might be the cause of the pain, Doctor... you might create more problems than you can solve... you might be the one who pushes her to death.. _Was it worth it? Was it worth the risk _not_ to do anything, because of a 'might'? He honestly didn't know.

"That depends on a lot of things," he answered tiredly, putting down the test result and unfolding the cuffs from his elbows, dragging them back down to his wrists. "I don't honestly know. It could be horribly complicated. It could be terribly simple. It could be nothing. I just don't know."

He hadn't been so honest with her before, and in truth, it scared her a little. Rose felt a small shiver cross her skin and she rubbed a hand to her forearm, warming her. The Doctor's head shot up.

"You all right?" he asked instantly. She snorted.

"No need to pounce every time I get the shivers," she laughed meeting his eye. "I'm fine."

"Right. Sorry. Won't happen again." The Doctor held his hands up in defence, as if someone was pointing a gun at him. "I'm just – "

" – Worried?" she finished for him. They grinned at each other. Then, slowly, he took her hand and led her to sit beside him on the bed, avoiding her gaze.

"If I told you what I think it is, you'd want to know the full story; then you'd wonder why I didn't tell you in the first place, straight after it happened, and I wouldn't have a good reason, and you'd get angry at me and storm off to your room. So, can I just ask – Can we skip all that?" When he turned to meet her gaze, his eyes were brimming with emotion. "Can I just tell you and we pretend you already knew?"

Rose considered him, wondering what he had hidden inside that mind of his. With a small nod, she agreed, promising that she would pretend.

What he told her next shocked her.

He asked what she remembered prior to his regeneration – nothing, just a bright white light that surrounded her, then waking up on the TARDIS floor with his old self in front of her. He paused for a moment, frowning, then let a story fall from his lips that she'd never even imagine. A story of golden light, of the Time Vortex and the Heart of the TARDIS; of her victory against the Daleks, of her fight to save his life. Of his fear about losing her. About what she saw through the eyes of the Time Vortex, connecting her to him that little bit more. He told her that he'd had to get the vortex out of her because it was killing her from the inside out, burning up every cell it came across.

_I absorbed all the energy of the Time Vortex, and no one's meant to do that!_

Turns out, that included humans. When he finished his story, she asked him why she couldn't remember. He just wrapped an arm around her shoulder and called it one of the many, unfair consequences.

He hadn't told her _how_ he'd got the vortex out: refused to comment on it, except that he would do it again if she asked him. Considering she hadn't a clue what he was really talking about, she just shrugged and said maybe he would have to end up doing it again anyway, the amount of trouble they got themselves into. He had laughed, and she hadn't known why.

The Doctor stood from the bed and smoothed a hand across the cold counter that ran the perimeter of the room.

"What we have as facts are these: Gregatio seems to think you have residual energy from the vortex stored in you, nothing that's dangerous and nothing that would even be noticed. It would explain the strange things on the TARDIS scanners, at least – some lost fragment from the Time Vortex floating around. Why it's only flaring up now, I don't know. Maybe it had to wait for the time to be right, who knows? Anyway, after all of this is said and done, you start seeing me going crazy in the console room one minute, then perfectly fine the next. That about sum it up?"

Rose hadn't been sure that he was talking to her, rambling as he was, but at this he turned to her with a quizzical expression.

"Yeah, I s'pose. Makes me sound sorta crazy, doesn't it?"

"I don't think you're crazy," he told her truthfully.

"Then, what?"

"I don't know!" He was frantic and brought his hands to his face, breathing heavily into his palms. He was sorry for snapping, and she knew it, but repeating the questions over and over again was not helping anyone. His mind began to produce any sort of reasoning for what was going on, and before he knew it, he was blurting it out of his mouth. "From what I can _possibly_ gather, whatever connection you still have to the Time Vortex is granting you your own personal access to any time and any place. Your subconscious is tapping into it, letting you hop from this time into any one you choose." The Doctor angled two of his fingers to mimic walking as he did so, meeting Rose's eye with an anger that was not supposed to be directed towards her. "Any time, place, _universe... _On the other hand, you could just be suffering vivid hallucinations, combined with whatever inner demons you have to fight. I don't know. I don't know, I don't know, _I don't know_!"

He sighed and closed his eyes, wondering why he suddenly felt so overwhelmed with anger. It was coursing through him, like a river of fire, red and angry and full. It couldn't just be that the felt helpless – he'd felt more helpless than this and had coped perfectly fine. Rose's life wasn't even in danger; she'd just turned into a human TARDIS, or thereabouts. Unable to control whatever it was that was happening to her, just getting a bit of a shock. That was it. So where on Gallifrey had this onslaught come from?

The Doctor opened his eyes, not surprised to find Rose looking at him with worry.

"There's too much that doesn't make sense," he tried to explain, calming his voice. "It's like someone's just patched all these events together, a string of happenings, one after another, that just go round and round without any point or meaning. Do you know what I'm getting at?"

Rose paused a moment, thinking, her mind remembering. She frowned, fiddling with the bottom of her top, trying to add things up in her mind that didn't make sense. "Sort of... Yeah."

The Doctor puffed out a breath. "So," he began, but didn't venture any more than that. Burying his hands in his pockets, he watched as Rose turned and began to meander around the Med Lab, picking at pieces of equipment here and there.

"It's like... sort of... a dream... almost."

"All these things happening around us, without explanation. And I don't know about you, Rose, but I've certainly been feeling a little strange lately. Tired and exhausted, like my energy is being used up as I make it. Even thinking's a challenge."

"Yeah," Rose agreed with a nod, turning back to him. He had edged towards the door. "Like, thoughts and that don't really make sense. You think 'em, but they're not..."

"...Natural."

Without warning, the Doctor's entire face dropped an inch with realisation; he hurtled out of the Med Lab and down the corridor. Rose followed, shouting after him to ask where he was going. He didn't answer, his mind set on to a vivid thought in his mind, a revelation that he knew he had to hold on to.

Something had bothered him about the visit to Gregatio, he realised. It was all too easy, too precise, too much like it was expected. It _fit_ far too much. And there had to be a reason. He just hoped he was wrong.

His coat flapped out behind him like a magician's cape as he ran, his footsteps pounding on her floor of the corridors. Wasn't there something in the TARDIS' library about feigned reality? Maybe if he could get to it...

And then a strange thing happened. One minute, there he was, flinging open the door of the library; the next, there was nothing. Just... nothing. His hand closed on empty space as everything faded away from him. Frowning, the Doctor turned. Behind him, nothing. He turned back. Nothing. Craning his neck, looking in all directions he could possibly think of, all that met him was a deep, dark black. No light from anywhere, no furniture, no surroundings, no wall, ceiling, floor. Nothing. The strange thing was, however, he could see perfectly. It wasn't the type of darkness you were thrown into when you closed your eyes, or when someone turned out the lights. He could see his hands, his shoulders from the corners of his eyes, his clothes, his shoes. But nothing else.

"Rose?"

No answer.

His voice both echoed around him and seeped into the muffled air. He frowned harder, turning, bringing his hand up in front of his face, over and over again. Was he dreaming? Had the tiredness he had felt suddenly got the better of him? There was another strange thing – his tiredness had gone completely. He felt fresh and alive, his thoughts making easy sense in his head, like he was _him_ again. And still no sign of life.

"Well, this is certainly very strange..."

The Doctor began to walk, though quite where – or how – he wasn't certain. He knew his feet were padding, leading him _somewhere_, but he appeared to be making no progress around him. There was just black and dark and that was it.

That was when he saw it. Slowly at first, but becoming more and more obvious with every passing second.

All around him, everywhere, bits and pieces of strange symbols that might have been hieroglyphic, might have been snatched bits and pieces from a thousand different languages. They were flowing down the darkness, as if someone were shining a very faint projector all the way down. They tumbled and flowed like a waterfall, their descent never ending. The Doctor made a snatch for his glasses and put them hurriedly on the bridge of his nose, his face creasing into a scrunched frown, his mouth hanging open as he read and translated the symbols.

"It's a code..." he muttered quietly as he read, his eyes flicking over the symbols. "You're joking!" he breathed after a while, half in fear, half in wonder. "That's _brilliant_, that is! Amazing! Fantastic! Illegal as it gets, mind, but still very, very clever."

The Doctor removed his glasses and stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms out to his side. He angled his head up towards the ceiling, shouting, "You really had me fooled; do you know that? Actually, I suppose you do, given the circumstances. But I started to figure it all out, slipped through the cracks into your little... void. And now here I am, armed with the knowledge and just _dying_ to meet whoever's behind all this. So you may as well let me out: it'll hurt less if you do, I promise."

If he had been expecting an answer, he showed no surprise when he didn't get one. Instead, the Doctor just shrugged and went back to studying the figures in front of him. He was perfectly happy to do so, curiosity taking over his worry, until only a few minutes later, when he caught sight of something he knew shouldn't be right. Something that shouldn't be there. A rogue.

"Hello," he growled softly to himself, pulling out his spectacles once again. "What are you doing there?"

The realisation hit him full on in the front of his mind. The Doctor stumbled, his eyes widening. "No!" he shouted with new-found fright, gasping as he recognised what the figures meant. "No no no no no no NO! That's not right! That shouldn't be there!"

Then he turned back to the ceiling again, shouting to the unknown entity he had addressed previously. "Listen to me!" he pleaded desperately, his breathing becoming ragged. "You know I'm here and you know what I'm saying, so _listen_ – your code is corrupted. Right now, I don't care what you're using it for, or what reasons you have for using it. All I know is that there's something wrong and if you don't let me out _right now_, you'll be staring into an _oblivion _of trouble that you can't control! It's not a threat; it's a promise. If you've any sense at all, you'll take me out and hear what I have to say!"

He stood there waiting for longer than he would care to admit. Panting with fear and shock, he just stood, watching the code fall away around him. However, whatever he had said must have had some sort of effect – because the next thing he knew, he was somewhere else completely different. Coughing and choking and struggling to both wake and sit up, he was forced back into a lying position by several pairs of rough hands.

"Let him go," a rough, female voice growled and, obediently, the hands disappeared.

The Doctor sat up and recognised his surroundings immediately. He swung his legs over the side of the cylindrical bed and stood, stretching his body in any direction it could go. In front of him stood a woman, slightly taller than Rose, with dark black hair that curled right the way down to her waist and sparkling, lively blue eyes, shining like electricity. She was wearing a navy uniform with a radio attached to the belt, and her severe presence commanded total attention in the room.

"I suppose I have you to thank for this?" the Doctor asked curtly, putting his hand out signify the room he was in and its various accessories. There were several guards standing stock still, waiting for commands. "I might have known you were – " he spat the word distastefully " – human."

"Brave words for a man who's been out cold for three days," she sneered with a raised eyebrow. She was not unattractive; there was beauty hidden in her plain features that used to shine through when she smiled, or when the light fell on it a certain way. Yet these days, none of that was obvious – she was just severe, and that was that.

"Three days?" the Doctor echoed in return, shocked. "No wonder my body feels like I've never used it before. Now, would you care to explain to me what's going on, or do I have to threaten it out of you?"

At this comment, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a couple of the guards flexed their numerous hands. Two hands, he thought, was enough for anybody: six was just excessive. He grimaced inwardly at the thought of the damage they could do to him if the need ever came about.

"He's fine," the woman told the guards; she had noticed too. "I called him awake of my own accord. Get back to work."

Instantly, all but two of the guards filed away out of the doors, leaving the remainder to stand hesitantly by the door. The Doctor cocked an eyebrow.

"Protection," explained the woman, noticing where he was looking. "Should you get violent. But reason tells me I won't be needing them?"

"Oh, you don't want to listen to reason," the Doctor countered before he could stop himself. Words from long ago echoed in his mind but he forced them down, back into the pit of his memory.

"Do I not? What a pity. And here was me thinking we could have a civilised conversation."

"There's nothing 'civil' about what you're doing here." He met the young woman's eye fiercly towering over her with menace. "Now, I won't ask again."

She met him with an equal look of courage, her thin mouth tipping up malevolently at the corners. "Well then, if you insist. My name is Raine. Charlotte Raine. And this," she held her arms out beside her, "is my domain. Welcome to the Literature Chamber. You're our first hostile prisoner."

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

The Doctor was gone. It wasn't that Rose couldn't find him: she'd lost him before in the TARDIS, countless times, but the corridors had always woven themselves so she'd found him. No, this was different. This time, he was actually gone.

She'd run out of the Med Lab right behind him, calling his name, shouting at him to slow down. The last she'd seen was his coat as he disappeared around a corner and through a door. By the time she'd got to the library, where she was certain he was headed to, he was gone.

At first she had just laughed, saying that his game to lighten the mood wasn't funny. It hadn't been too long afterwards that she'd realised he really wasn't there.

Rose had searched all the rooms she could think of. Aquarium, gym, cinema, living room, kitchen, bathroom, dining room, Chinese takeaway, eat-in restaurant, garden, chapel (quite why he had a chapel, she didn't know. She had asked, once, and he had muttered something about one of his older companions – but that was it). He wasn't anywhere.

His bedroom had offered a glimmer of hope. She had never been in it before, and was now surprised that he even had one. When it came to it, intuition told her that the door she was outside was the Doctor's bedroom. It had been locked. Locked was good – locked could mean he was on the other side.

Desperately, almost happily, she had pounded on the door for him to come out, to stop fooling around, that this wasn't funny anymore.

There was no answer.

She had the idea of checking the TARDIS' on-board scanners. Whenever the Doctor wanted to find out if she was awake, or asleep, or watching a film, or doing whatever it was she did when she wasn't around him, he told her he just checked the TARDIS.

So, off to the console room she set. It offered no comfort when, as kindly and easily at it could, the time machine informed her that she was the only one on board.

"But that's... impossible. Where would he go? He wouldn't just _leave_ me."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the mug of tea she had made him a few hours ago. Now, of course, it was stone cold; but she picked it up and wrapped her fingers around it as if it were her one warmth in the world. Her last connection to the Doctor.

She turned to where she thought the ship might best hear her.

"Where's he gone?" she asked quietly, knowing full well that she wouldn't get an answer. However, as much as it could, the TARDIS tried to calm her by dimming the lights and raising the temperature to a gentle warmth.

"Guess you don't know either," Rose laughed, patting the controls of the ship affectionately. "He isn't half rough with you, y'know. If I ever get him back, I'll ask him to take it easy on you, yeah? Ask him to only have a fiddle if somethin's actually wrong rather than when he's bored."

Quite by accident, mostly out of habit, Rose brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. She recoiled instantly with the unpleasant temperature and flavour, setting the mug down and wiping at her mouth. And then, without any sort of warning, she felt the tears well up and spill over her cheek as she realised just how alone she really was.

He'd never disappeared from the TARDIS before.

And now she was alone, she didn't know where to start.

Next Chapter...

_**Chapter VIII – Systematic**_

_Charlotte faltered a moment, her eyes widened. "What do you mean 'corrupted'?" she demanded, worry tainting her voice. "Doctor, what have you seen?"_

_He met her eye, mouth thin, cheeks high and face determined. "I'm not telling you a thing until you take me to her."_


	8. Systematic

**Author's Note: **Surprise! It's been about… what, sixth months? Possibly slightly less. You have absolutely no idea how sorry I am that it's taken me so long, and how ridiculously happy it's made me that my muse is back. I'll have you all know, I was writing until 6am last night – the first time inspiration has hit since last September, really. Other chapters are on the way, but they've been sent off to be betad. Gawd knows when I'll get them back xD

I don't know what suddenly got me writing again, but I do know that having writer's block is no fun. Thank you for all the support you're all giving me, and your reviews and lovely, wonderful kind words – even after so much time – spur me on to write further, because I know that people are really reading this… whatever it is. So, enjoy, and might I warn that this plot is a little complex and confusing but will all work out in the end. I hope. Until next time (which will hopefully not be another sixth months) take care. By the way, for those who are interested, this story is almost an entire year old. /scared look/

* * *

**Chapter VIII – Systematic**

* * *

Rose had fallen asleep. Depositing of the cold tea in the kitchen sink, she had made her way to the library to try and find something – anything – out. Maybe if the Doctor had told her what had been on his mind, she would have known what to look for. As it was, she'd gone through half of a 'TARDIS Manual' before giving up and trawling the brief pages of 'TARDIS Manual for Dummies', not really sure what it was she was looking for. When this had failed, she had begun to leaf through a book titled, 'So, You're Having Trouble Understanding Gallifreyan?'. Every effort had proved as useless as the last. The trouble was, the library was so vast that she would have trouble finding things when she knew what to look for, let alone when she had no idea where to start. 

So, for now, she was slumped over one of the large tables, her head resting in the crook of her right elbow, her mouth open as she slept. She didn't notice her surroundings change, ever so slightly, or the books rearrange themselves, or the lighting change. The only difference she noticed was a soft whistled tune, working its way through the corridors and coming closer and closer to the room. She stirred slightly in her sleep before her eyes flickered open, and she began to recognise whatever tune it was that was being whistled.

She couldn't put a name to it, but it was something the Doctor sang regularly, when he was in a particularly inquisitive mood.

Suddenly, as the volume drew to a climax, Rose bolted upright – all tiredness leaving her – and stared at the shadow of a figure in the doorway. It was the Doctor.

She made to stand, to question him, to tell him she had missed him, to ask what had gone on. But the look on his face – a look of complete horror and disbelief – was enough to stop her in her tracks.

He gaped and blinked, his hollowed eyes wide and terrified. She saw the breath hitch in his throat as he tensed, saw a flicker of fear dart across his face, saw his hand physically shake as he went to steady himself on the wall. His eyes never left her.

"What's got in to you?" Rose laughed nervously, folding her arms across her chest and feeling slightly uncomfortable.

He gasped when she spoke. Rose frowned and took a tentative step towards him. "Doctor?"

"Please be real," was all she heard him say. The next thing she knew, he had flung himself at her, dashing forward and sweeping her up in a crushing hug. His tight arms bruised her shoulders as he buried himself in her mass of hair, relishing her scent. He closed his eyes and felt her heart beat against him, felt the surprise in her quickening of breath. He lifted her, spun her and clung to her like she was a cliff edge at sea.

Eventually he put her down, reaching tenderly to cup her cheek but shaking as he did so. His eyes were red and sore, his hair a wild mass of tangles.

Rose, in completely shock of his reaction, let her arms drape lazily of his shoulders as she looked up at him with worry. When the Doctor then leant down and kissed her forehead, the feel of his lips on her skin was almost too much to take in.

"Doctor! What's wrong?" she asked drawing back. "You're actin' like you haven't seen me in months. Where did you go?"

He seemed not to hear her, instead searching her eyes franticly with his own. "How... How are you here...? I've dreamt of seeing you, of having a second chance. Please, God. Don't let me be dreaming now."

He mumbled variations on this as he pulled her to him again, kissing desperately at her temples, her cheeks and her jawline, his breath cracking with uncried sobs.

Rose's heart raced at his rough, desperate nature, and she physically had to fight to get him off her. He was reluctant, seemingly _needing_ to be near her, and his hands slid from her cheeks to her hands, encasing them in his and squeezing tightly.

She looked up to him, heat rising in her cheeks. She fought free a hand from his grasp and raised it to his face in comfort. She felt him quiver beneath her touch and he closed his eyes; even this simple movement was enough to make a shiver run through her.

"What happened to you?" she asked tenderly, stepping into him. For a moment, he let her be that close, let his senses drown in her. Then, realising suddenly where he was and whom he was with, he jumped back as if she'd bitten him. The glare in his eyes looked accusatory and Rose felt a further wave of uncertainty tingle up her spine.

"I've been saving you in my dreams every night," he replied quietly, watching her as if she were a lion. "Always waking up and praying that you'd be there. And now here you are – what are you doing here? How did you even _get_ here? You shouldn't be here; this isn't right."

Something in Rose stirred and she frowned, a sickness coming over her. A memory flashed into her mind of the darkened Doctor, drowned in eerie green light, the one who had honestly managed to scare her without doing very much at all. Comparing him to the red-eyed, dishevelled, tired Doctor in front of her, she realised the difference wasn't that much. Rose felt an involuntary shudder of fear creep up on her: she must be hallucinating again.

"You're not real," she said out loud, as if admitting it would somehow make him go away. She barged past him, heading for the door, but he made a grab for her forearm and swung her around to face him.

"Don't you come back in to my world and tell me that _I'm_ not real," he shot back, harshly, his eyes meeting hers with the sort of intensity that made her listen to anything he had to say. "You've been gone for... I don't know how long. I didn't even know if you were dead or not. Seeing you here, like this, it must mean something. Whether you're just a figment of my imagination, I don't know – but whoever or whatever you are, you have to listen to me. You don't belong here and you're messing everything up by being here. So just... pop back to wherever the hell it is you came from and stop torturing me. I've had enough of it!"

His eyes were gleaming with something he was fighting, a new strain of tears creeping up on him. He loosened the grip on Rose's arm, then met her eye brazenly. "I've lost too many hours wishing you were back with me." And then, more softly, he added, "Are you really back? Because this doesn't feel like I'm dreaming."

"I think... I dunno..."

She honestly didn't. Her mind was a dizzy collection of random thoughts, words stringing together in incoherent sentences, every new thought a contradiction of the last. The Doctor was acting like he was mad, as though he couldn't make up his mind as to whether he wanted her there or not. It unnerved her to see the man who was usually so strong falling apart right in front of her. She didn't even know if she was supposed to be here or not.

"Tell me you're back," the Doctor pleaded desperately, his fingers curling around the bare skin of her arm. For some, inexplicable, reason, Rose suddenly wished the t-shirt she had picked out had longer sleeves. He stepped towards her, putting as little space between them as possible. She couldn't help tilting her head up to meet his gaze, and his look was so filled with a rising tide of sorrow, she could almost feel the tears welling up of their own accord. "Please," he continued softly in a whisper, his eyes darting briefly over her features. "Tell me – Tell me I'm not dreaming. Rose." He cupped her cheek tenderly, his fingers brushing at the side of her jawline. "My Rose."

Rose took in a small breath. A memory washed over her of the Doctor in _Pride and Prejudice_, his closeness, his intensity. She shuddered.

"You have to listen to me," Rose said boldly, her gaze locked in a battle to the death with his. "This isn't real. Whatever you are, or wherever I am, I don't belong here. I'm from... somewhere else. I dunno. He said... Um... Different universe, or something. Parallel, maybe. An' if I'm just... slippin' through all the cracks here an' there, then I've gotta get back to my own time. My own Doctor. I dunno what's going on... but I'm not the Rose you think I am."

She watched as reason tried to fight it out in his mind. It was physically possible to see, across his face, just how much he was trying to understand and how much he just wanted to let go and dive into his emotions. Eventually, the Doctor dropped his hand, swallowed and stepped back.

"Parallel universe," he repeated with a nod. "Right. Makes a certain kind of sense. You're still alive, I suppose that's a good thing. Last parallel universe I visited was with you, nasty place, didn't really want to see it again. Until you stayed there, then I wished I could go back whenever I liked."

Rose frowned disbelievingly. "I stayed? What d'you mean I _stayed_?"

"Just that. You didn't want to come with me again."

It was alarming to see him so struck down by grief one moment, then so overly business like the next. The abrupt change of his emotion, although, was a quality Rose realised he probably had in all of his parallel selves – if that's what he was. It was difficult to get her head around it, so she stopped trying.

"I'm sorry," she answered earnestly, stepping towards him. The Doctor shook his head, didn't meet her eye and shrugged.

"Obviously this 'parallel me' could offer you more than I could. Which is fine, really. I understand. Should have guessed, actually, when I walked in and saw you just sitting there at the table. You never really could have come back to me."

"Maybe there's a chance, yeah?" Rose tried to reason desperately, seeing the hurt flicker into his face again as he watched her. He had put his hands in his pockets resignedly, and his face looked so empty and shadowed she would barely have thought he was the same man as her Doctor. "I could come back?"

"There's always a chance. The universe is full of them – just look at this, for example. Here I am, moping about the galaxies, wishing you were here and 'poof', there you are. Only, not really what I wanted. No offence. Although, it _does_ prove that age old saying, 'be careful what you wish for'. Speaking of which, I suppose you'll be wanting to get back to your own universe? It goes without saying that I don't have anything here to help you, so the best thing you can do is sit and wait for whatever brought you here in the first place to change its mind and send you back."

Rose blinked. "How... How can you jus'... Know that?"

"Travel between alternate universes was what my people used to _do_," he shrugged. "I know a bit about it. And to be honest, I'm either too tired or too stupid not to believe you. I trust you; and I don't think you'd lie to me, in any universe. If there was anything I could do to get you out of my world and back to yours, I'd do it – but I just don't think I can."

The tiredness on his face was unmistakable.

"God, I must have... messed you up when I left," Rose almost laughed, nervousness jumping through her like a child on a pogo stick. He was so different in his moods, as if he were confused about how he should be feeling.

"It's probably best we don't talk about it," the Doctor replied, and his voice was edging on curt. "Whatever you learn here and take back with you could have unthinkable consequences. Could even cause a time paradox without even knowing it. That's hardly something I want to repeat."

"No. No, I s'pose not."

Rose had never really had an awkward silence furl out between her and the Doctor before. Usually, when they fell silent in each other's company, it was comfortable and companionable. Every now and then, one of them would glance up to find the other looking at them; they would share a small smile for a brief moment or two before each went back to whatever they were doing.

However the silence that ensued after this was so thick, Rose could have cut the tension with a knife.

The Doctor turned and began to pick at the spines of books, not really looking at them, but wanting something to do with his hands. Rose watched, having nothing else to do, until he let out a loud sigh and turned to her.

"I could run some scans, if you like," he offered at last with a small frown. "Find out roundabout how long you've been out of your universe, see when you should be getting back. How _did_ you manage to fall through, anyway? It's hardly something you can do in your sleep."

"I... dunno. It's happened twice, now. One minute I'm just standing there, or sitting, or whatever. And the next, there I am, same place, different... people, I s'pose. Last time it happened, I was only there for a couple of minutes."

"And you returned to your universe straight afterwards?"

"Yeah."

The Doctor began to pace, worry and thought creasing his weary forehead.

"And you've no explanation for what's happening? Nothing you've done, nowhere you've visited? Actually, don't answer that – it's safer that I don't know."

"I jus' know you started goin' on about the Time Vortex and – "

"Time Vortex?" He seemed genuinely shocked. "Why would I talk about the Time Vortex?"

"You said... Um... That some of it was still in me, or somethin'. I dunno, it was sort of... confusing."

Rose frowned, trying to figure out the mess in her head. What the Doctor had told her about the Game Station had been a lot to take in. She believed him, of course, but trying to talk about something she couldn't quite remember was proving difficult.

She stopped talking to find the Doctor looking at her softly, his gaze almost glazed. She couldn't help but smile slightly, at which point he blinked and shook his head, looking away.

"Sorry. It's just been a while since I've seen you... I miss you."

His abruptness startled her, and her mouth dropped a few millimetres. Swallowing, she frowned and stepped towards him. He didn't move away. "How long's it been?"

"Oh, I... couldn't say," the Doctor sighed, turning his head to look at her. "And I don't mean that I can't, or won't; I really don't know how long it's been. But it hurts – " He slowly reached to put an index finger over one of his hearts " – In here. And, in here – " The Doctor brought the same hand up to his head, his fingers resting idly on his temple – "It's empty. There's nothing. Just... Dark. All the time."

Rose felt her heart thump so loudly in her chest she wondered if the Doctor would comment on it. A small, prickling feeling began to spread from between her shoulder blades down the soft skin of her back, but she fought against the convulsive shudder that came with it. Instinctively she reached a hand up, resting it against the cool skin of the Doctor's cheek, where his hand had lain not moments before. He took in a small breath and closed his eyes, so still against her touch he almost seemed to be made of stone.

He growled out a throaty, incoherent sound that may have been the beginnings of 'Rose...'. And then gently, slowly, a small smile crept over his lips, his face softening under her skin.

"Hmm," he mused happily, almost as a laugh. "You're light. Like gold." The Doctor opened his eyes, trapping the both of them in a void of swirling gazes. Lifting his hand to cover hers on his cheek, he pushed his fingers through hers, sharing in her touch. All the while, his eyes never left her. "So much light surrounds you. So much warmth. So much love." For the smallest of moments, a frown flickered fleetingly over his face. "How can you live with that?"

"I..." Rose began, but found the rest of her sentence caught up in her throat. Or maybe it disappeared into the depths of his eyes – she didn't know. There wasn't an answer she could possibly give to his question, and the excuse of finding her throat too dry to speak was well welcomed.

Reluctantly, the Doctor tore their linked hands away from his face, his palm grazing the top of her knuckles. He pushed his fingers further through her own, letting their tips rest on her palm; then, watching her intently, he lifted the join to his mouth and touched them lightly with his lips. Gently and tenderly he pressed a small kiss against her fingers, before suddenly dropping her hand completely and walking past her towards the door of the library.

She stood, somewhat shell-shocked, and didn't speak. Instead she just turned, following the Doctor with her eyes; she couldn't even walk.

"I'll see how long it'll take for you to get back. If I can."

Realising that it would be rude to just stand there and _stare_, Rose cleared her throat and forced her voice to find itself. "Yeah, right." He made to turn. "Listen..."

The Doctor, obediently, turned back, his gentle eyes sparkling. His look told Rose to continue.

"Don't give up," Rose advised, plunging in with mostly instinct. "Don't just sit here and let me go. The universe needs its Doctor – you need to get back out there."

The moment that followed was one of the more awkward that Rose would ever like to experience. The Doctor coughed slightly and looked to the floor, frowning. It had faded by the time he looked up again, but he spoke as if she hadn't said anything.

"Meet me in the control room," he almost ordered – but his voice was quiet. "I need to pick a couple of things up from the Med Lab. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to see the connection and advise you on how to get home. All the pieces back where they should be."

The Doctor held her gaze for just a moment, before giving a small, nervous nod and disappearing out into the corridor.

It was only then that Rose let out the breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

Slowly, her feet more obeying the Doctor than any conscious thought, she made her way to the console room, the corridors of the TARDIS politely giving her the fastest way there.

She stood for a minute or two, walking gently around the ship, staring at the controls, being tempted to push a button, glancing at the door. She eventually made her way to a window by the front doors, a small, round affair that looked like the sort of thing one might find in a boat.

What she saw surprised her. The corner of a back alley. A back alley she recognised, not far off from her flat in Powell Estate. A back alley the Doctor regularly landed the TARDIS in, whenever they came to visit. If his Rose had stayed with Mickey in the alternate dimension... then what was he doing here? Pulling back for a moment, she frowned.

Soft footsteps echoed down the corridor and she made the note to ask him.

She didn't get the chance.

"Rose! What're you doing here? Forget your shampoo, or something?"

Rose jumped and turned in the same movement, her mind registering what her heart dared not.

It was him.

* * *

I-----------------------------------------------------I

* * *

Charlotte Raine considered the man in front of her with a wary eye. Alien, by her standards, but most definitely more human than the scum she was used to dealing with day in, day out. She arched a suspicious eyebrow as he made to speak. 

However, before he got the chance, a loud blaring beep sliced through the air persistently. Raine sighed and lifted her forearm to her mouth – encasing it was a metallic sheet with various buttons and controls. She held her thumb down on the communications device and spoke into what the Doctor could only assume was a speaker.

"What is it?" she barked belligerently, evidently annoyed. At whatever response she got, she raised in index finger to an earpiece, holding it firmly to her eardrum.

She tensed, a worried frown creasing her forehead. "You're sure?" Raine continued, a little softer, into her arm. The answer, such as it was, apparently confirmed her suspicions. "Is there nothing you can do?"

As information was being relayed to her, her eyes flicked momentarily to the Doctor. He raised an eyebrow at her look, shoving his hands in his pockets and pursing his lips.

"See it's taken care of, for the time being. I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm handling the prisoner."

Charlotte finished at last, shutting off the communications device with irritation.

"Prisoner, am I?" the Doctor sneered, taking a hand out of his pocket to indicate the room. It was certainly bare enough to be a prison cell. The room he remembered walking into when he first entered the Literature Chamber – filled with plush, carpeted walls and a pleasant ambience – was now just a simple experimentation room. Silver walls gleamed coldly at him from all sides and he threw a disdainful look at what had served as his bed for the past three days. The cylindrical tube was attached to the wall in such a way that it only took a little of the Doctor's imagination to realise, while he had been asleep, he and his knowledge had probably been injected into the workings of the building like a syringe.

He glanced back to Raine.

"Yes," she shot back tersely, seeking out his eye contact. "And you're only that because I haven't decided to kill you yet."

A smile twitched at the corner of the Doctor's mouth, but it was without warmth. "Sorry, I've been around for a while – empty threats don't work on me."

Raine narrowed her eyes and advanced on him. "Don't think I haven't met your type before: smug, all-knowing little mongrels who – "

"If I'm smug," the Doctor interrupted with venom, "It's because I _am_ all knowing. I'm here now, and I'm a threat, so you'd better get used to it."

She blinked for a moment, mouth open mid-sentence. It had been a long while since anyone had dared to speak to her like that, even the filthy little aliens she had the misfortune of communicating with. Perhaps it was time to teach him a lesson.

"You're only awake because you slipped through our defences," she spat, steely eyes ablaze. "You have nothing on us – and we have everything on you. So if you think, for one second, that you have the upper hand here, _Doctor_, you are very much mistaken. You'll do as I say when I say it, or you'll end up dead to the world – capiche?"

A fleeting frown danced across his forehead, but it was gone in an instant. The Doctor stepped forward, only too aware of the two guards that were still in the room. He pushed his face up to Charlotte's, so void of emotion he looked as though he had been carved from the coldest of marble.

For one, horrifying moment, their gazes locked. Raine saw dark, swirling thunder intensifying in his eyes and there was an unnamed danger clouding his look. He opened his mouth to speak, his face suddenly very sharp.

Then, out of nowhere, he became a different person. He stepped back, shrugged resignedly and even offered a smile.

"All right," he chirped, as if she had just offered to buy him lunch. "Shall we be off, then?"

Raine blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Her words faltered in her throat – something that had not happened for a very long time. The Doctor hid a smug smirk.

She recomposed herself and signalled to the guards. The next thing the Doctor knew, there were six pairs of hands on his arms – three on each side – and he was being ushered out of the door behind Raine.

They followed a winding corridor with steely-blue doors set in every hundred yards or so. Each was unmarked and just like the next, making the Doctor feel very much that he was going around in a circle.

They made a sharp turn to the right through an entrance he hadn't seen, and with the turn, his stomach lurched violently.

"So – where are we going?" he tried as their shoes echoed on the shiny, linoleum floor. "Head of the operation?"

Raine snorted and didn't bother looking over her shoulder. Usually, she would not have graced the prisoner with an answer; but there was something about him that – despite herself – she trusted, and he had managed to work his way into the system's core with surprising ease. What she had been able to pick up on him from his brain signals was all rather jumbled, like a box of puzzle pieces that had been shaken up.

"_I_," she answered with an air of triumph, "am going to my next call of duty. You, however, are leaving."

The Doctor blinked. "Eh?" he asked, not quite being able to believe it. "But you need me."

A bitterly amused laugh escaped her in response. She drew to a halt and pressed a card to a button on the wall before turning to the Doctor. He looked quite comical with the gravelly aliens clasping his arms in their massive hands. She almost felt sorry for him.

Slowly, by way of explanation, she lifted two fingers to her temple.

"We only need what's up here," she told the Doctor coldly, tapping at her head. "And everything we need of that, we already have… and anything else," she added with a tyrannous gleam in her eye, "won't take us a moment to extricate."

The Doctor considered her with an amused smile. "So, what? You're going to strip my memory of all your 'secret conspiracies' and cast me out onto the street?"

Raine faltered, again, her mind going into temporary shutdown.

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"Oh, I'm right, aren't I?" he exclaimed with excitement, straining against the grips on his arms, which then only tightened. He would have sworn the creatures growled at him. "That really is a_maz_ing! Sheer brilliance! Let the mind run its toll in the Literature Chamber while you look at how it works, see something you like, pop the subject in for further examinations, wipe the memories of whoever it is you're stealing from and hey presto! Free knowledge without anyone being aware you've even committed a crime!"

He was getting positively more excited with every word and the guards were beginning to have trouble holding him back.

"But what's the 'big idea'?" the Doctor continued, looking Raine in the eye. "What's it all _for_? I mean, I know humans are a curious bunch, but this… this is incredible! Incredibly stupid, albeit, but I'm still fascinated as to the why."

"You ask too many questions," she spat decisively, putting her hands on her hips and drumming her fingers irritably on her suit.

"Either I ask too many, or you don't answer enough," he winked in return. Raine pursed her lips.

"I could wipe you out in the blink of an eye," she returned calmly, meeting the Doctor's glare. She stepped towards him, never once letting his gaze stray from hers – not that he tried. "You and your knowledge of this place, it could go down the drain faster than you can say Nanogenesticidiopitheus(1). You'll become a shell, a no one, a nothing. Just another worthless piece of filth trailing the grounds on this pathetic excuse for a planet."

Despite the threat, the Doctor merely raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back slightly. A dark, sincere looked passed across his face and when he spoke, his voice was filled with dangerous promises. "But you won't do that," he growled.

Raine raised an eyebrow. "Oh, won't I?"

"No." He was so assured, Raine had to wonder where he gained the confidence from. "Because I'm telling you what's going to happen. You're going to release me from these guards. You're going to take me to the source of the problem – which you obviously have – and accept my help, because without me, there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop it. You're going to listen to what I have to say, because if you weren't interested in the first place, you wouldn't have woken me up. And, Commander Charlotte Raine of Squadron B6 sector T-K-8, you are going to listen to my warning: what you're doing to these people – it's wrong. And I'm going to stop you."

Raine straightened, her hands flexing on her hips. A small smile played on her lips as she looked the Doctor distastefully up and down, taking in his dishevelled appearance, ruffled clothes and tired face. When she looked back to his eye again, there was just the smallest hint of anger at his edges. She smiled harder.

"I would _like_ to see you try," she snarled, hiding her discomfort at his knowledge of her base in the system.

The doors beside them slid open. With a motion of her hand, the guards led the Doctor into the room beyond – a lift. It was huge, big enough for at least thirty people. Raine slipped a circular, laminated card into a slot and selected various options on the touch screen monitor beside it. The Doctor peered over her shoulder with interest, craning his neck to see as much as possible: which wasn't helpful. The information given was coded, so fairly useless to him. But he had studied human beings for the best part of his life – he knew when they were stalling.

The Doctor grinned victoriously.

"You don't know what to do, do you?" he asked with wonder, a smile in his voice. He cocked his head and watched Raine's shoulders tense for a moment, heard the smallest of sighs as she turned to look at him. The doors of the lift were still open.

"Let him go," she barked to the guards. "I've got him under control now."

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow. The guards did nothing.

"Didn't you hear me?" Raine continued, voice harsh. "I gave you a direct order. Let the man go and get back to work."

Slowly, reluctantly, the Doctor felt the grips on his arms loosen and then disappear. The two gravelly aliens, about three quarters of his height, left the lift in single file then split off different directions in the corridor. It was only then the doors slid shut – but the lift didn't move.

Raine folded her arms irritably and pursed her lips. Oh, here we go, the Doctor thought to himself bitterly, shaking his arms out with the free restraint. She's about to get all high-and-mighty.

But she said nothing.

The Doctor cleared his throat nervously, wondering why she was just standing there _looking_ at him.

"You need me to help you," he found himself saying, quite without meaning to. Still, he was proud that his voice sounded dangerous and severe. Raine looked a bit taken aback.

She looked as though she were going to say something bitter and sarcastic as she had before; but then she closed her mouth again, swallowed, and dropped her eyes to the floor.

"You're right," she admitted quietly, only just loud enough for him to hear. "I _do_ need your help. You can tell me what you saw in the Code, seeing as you find it so important."

"Right. And then, when you've got what you want, you're going to cast me on the street like just another nobody. That about right?"

Raine braved a look up to meet his eye. She wished she hadn't. He didn't look angry – angry wasn't the word. Disappointed and maybe surprised, and she felt so much like the little girl she turned into when Daddy told her off, that she held her arms tighter around herself and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Guilt she couldn't explain began to rise as she considered what he had said. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow now, looking at her sternly. The question, she realised eventually, wasn't rhetorical.

"I don't have a choice." Her voice wasn't bitter like she had meant it. It was sorrowful. The Doctor picked up on it.

He took a tentative step towards the young woman, who flinched without meaning to. She had spent too many nights like this, Daddy angry with her for hiding his cigarettes, or the bottle of gin, or his car keys when he shouldn't be driving... and every time, he would raise his hand and –

"Charlotte," the Doctor said softly. Raine blinked back to reality, startled that she had sunk into a part of her memory she had spent the last twenty years of her life trying to quell. What she saw when she looked to the Doctor, the man she was supposed to treat just like any of the other alien riffraff she dealt with, was a man who had compassion and tenderness in his eyes. Even the stern look on his face had gone. "Are you all right?"

What a question – she could be here all day.

Charlotte suddenly steeled herself. Of all the times to start getting reminiscent of her past, this was not it.

"Yes," she answered testily, her cold front returning. "You have what we want. There's two ways this can go – you comply to tell us everything you know, or we take it by force. Either way, you know too much for us to let you go wandering outside and blabbing to all the reporters. What we do here... We can't risk it. It's more than my job's worth."

The Doctor considered this, swallowing contemplatively and stepping backwards. "And what about secret option number three?"

"There is no – " Raine began, but the look in his eyes stopped her. She sighed and, despite herself, motioned with her hand. "Fine. What have you got?"

"You tell me everything you know and I sort out the mess you've got yourself into, getting you back on track and away from danger, before disappearing off into the realms of time and space, never to be seen again."

"I don't negotiate with criminals."

Automatic response, she supposed. Evidently the training was stronger than she'd realised.

The Doctor snorted, quite rightly too.

"Oh, I'm about as far away from 'criminal' as you can get," he assured, looking at the young woman underneath raised eyebrows. "And the way I see it, you're going to have a problem on your hands whatever you do. Because if I get hostile and you have to take whatever it is you want from me by force, you're going to have to explain to your superiors exactly _why_ you've taken such a risk in letting me out in the first place.

"Of course, you'll soon be ordered to strip me of my memory, leaving your colleagues with some pretty dangerous and – without me here to explain it – useless information that you won't be able to work through on your own. You're also pretty certain that I'm not going to tell you anything without assurance that I won't get my brain sucked out of me afterwards, and you just can't promise that because the risk – as you say – of letting me loose with everything I know could be catastrophic.

"Saying that… I've escaped from your system. I'm a threat. A prisoner. You could just throw me out on the street right now, like you promised. No strings attached. No danger to worry about." He stepped forward again, his voice a growl. "So, what's it going to be? Clock's ticking, Charlotte. And very soon, Daddy's going to come home and find you."

That did it. Her barriers began to crack, her chest tightened and Raine had to try very hard not to cry. Fear fluttered into her heart like a butterfly caught behind a window as she looked stubbornly to the wall of the lift beside her.

"Stop it," she snarled bitterly, though quite whether she was talking to the alien or the fleeting memory in her head, she wasn't sure.

"Stop what?" the Doctor returned, though in his voice it sounded very much like he had every idea what he was doing.

"That. Stop it. It's not... fair..." Her voice was breaking, losing, as she struggled to grasp onto reality around her. She wouldn't fade back into that place – not again.

"I'm only telling you what you already know. It's up to you to stop it."

"But... I can't... I don't know how."

Raine closed her eyes as something watery stung at her lids. Pain began to seep through her chest like she was being winded in slow motion. She heard a voice – not the Doctor's, but a deep, gravelly angry sound. Even though he was dead, had been for some time, she knew who it was. She _knew_. Her father. And he was coming to get her.

Eyes closed, Raine hurled herself towards the wall of the lift, trying to get away from the terrifying sound of the hunter's call. He would hurt her. He would kill her. Then he would leave.

But rather than land against the wall, as she had expected, she felt warmth and comfort behind her and strong hands around her upper arms. Fearing the worst, that angry Daddy had sneaked up on her from behind and was now going to hurt her, she let out a scream...

...Until a gentle but firm hand was clamped over her mouth. She felt something tickle at her temple, light and soft, but she did not dare to open her eyes. Lips hovered next to her ear, breathing warm calming breaths through her and somehow, without quite meaning to, she found she was breathing in time with him. It was a him, to be sure. That voice... so soft, so familiar... she had no choice but to listen and obey.

_Fight back. It isn't real. Hear me in your mind, Charlotte. Feel my strength. Fight._

There was no sense in the words, yet somehow, she felt more powerful than she ever had before. Something inside her began to rise and surge, like a great beast waking from a sleep. There was a scream, not hers, and then all shadows and sounds faded into nothing.

She opened her eyes.

And found that there was indeed a hand around her mouth, as well as by her temple. And there was something tickling the side of her jaw. Hair. Rich, dark hair. Hands around her, holding her safe, and a warm torso behind hers that moved softly against her back. The whispering had stopped, but there was still breath on her ear. Whatever had been chasing her, whatever memory that had sprung up again, was banished once more to the back of her mind.

The hands around her shoulders pushed her away and soon Raine was standing on her own strength again, shaking with lingering fear and confusion. The grip on her arms released her completely and, reluctantly, she turned. The look on the Doctor's face was so full of understanding and sympathy that she could have cried. But that part of her was a part long gone, and she wouldn't let it resurface so easily. Not again.

The Doctor took in a breath through his nose and met Charlotte's eye. He seemed a little hesitant. He was out of the habit of reading minds by force, and manipulating Charlotte so that she would let him in had taken a lot of his self-control not to abuse. At least now he had as much information about this place as Charlotte did.

"...I'm Sorry," he told her quietly, his face full of remorse. "I needed to know."

Raine nodded, somehow understanding not only what he had done, but why and very nearly how. Reading her expression, he offered a small smile.

"What's happening here?" she asked weakly, feeling her strength drained.

"I don't know," the Doctor replied honestly, folding his arms heavily. "Something is controlling parts of your mind that you've been told to shut away, but that's all I can find." He frowned for a moment, thoughts and ideas buffeting him as he tried to make sense of them. "Whatever's going on, it's not making it up as it's going along. I can't explain this in any way you'll understand, but basically, something is manipulating procedures that have already been set up to its own advantage – you don't do mind control here, do you?"

Charlotte, highly confused by his question, shook her head. "We only... We take the information we need. We don't violate people's free will."

The Doctor raised a dubious eyebrow. "Yet you're perfectly happy to go in there without their consent, take what you can find and erase the rest?"

She shifted uncomfortably, not looking him in the eye. There was that guilt again, building and rising like an angry monster in her gut. If she wasn't careful, perhaps she could make out the strangled shape of –

"No, Charlotte," the Doctor said quickly, unfolding his arms and rushing to her side. He put out a hand to touch her lightly on the elbow. She looked at him. "Enough," he told her firmly with compassionate eyes.

Raine frowned at him. "How did you know I was – "

"They don't call me Doctor for nothing," he interrupted shortly. "Now then, I think I've proved I'm quite useful to you. Getting rid of me is the last thing you want to do, trust me. So here's how it's going to go. You're going to tell me everything you know: everything about the Code, the System, what you do here, why you do it and, most importantly, about what has been happening lately. Then I'm going to tell you what _I_ know. Then I'm going to stop it."

"Stop what?"

The Doctor didn't answer. Instead he turned, seemingly trying to work out the controls of this lift. He was quite confident that she wouldn't be kicking him out onto the street. He was not so confident, however, that he would be able to help. Not until he knew more.

Something deep growled in protest.

Oh. Or until he'd had some breakfast. Being out cold for three days would make anyone hungry, he supposed.

"Is there a canteen anywhere around here?" he threw back over his shoulder. "I'm starving."

He felt a hand on his arm after a moment or two and turned to look into the face of an unnaturally worried woman.

"Doctor – " she pushed urgently " – stop _what_?"

He frowned slightly, then gave her a pointed look. "Whatever it is that's threatening these people."

The menace in his voice made it quite clear that their work with the System came under that list. Charlotte shivered. Letting a hostile prisoner help them because he was the only one who could, that was one thing – but to purposefully let him destroy the workings of their plan? She wasn't sure she could do it.

The two shared a gaze, a battle of wits and intelligence, a silent conversation. The Doctor wouldn't falter. Too much was at stake. And drifting through his eyes, his brightened, intelligent eyes, Raine could see that.

She sighed and looked away. "All right. We'll help you. If you help us."

"I'll see about that when the time comes," the Doctor replied, somewhat cheerily.

He watched and waited with a smile as Raine programmed new coordinates into the lift. Although he didn't feel the thing move, it was quite evident that it had when the doors slid open. She led him out into a large room, full of bustling people and computers and more gravelly aliens. There wasn't a window in sight in the high, white walls. In the centre of the room was a huge column, a large cylinder that was domed off at the top like a giant mushroom – near the ceiling – with various screens and controls jutting out from it all the way down. It towered over everything else in the room impressively and the Doctor had to crane his neck back to see anywhere near the top.

He whistled with awe. "Sixty-first century computer system," he grinned, turning to Raine beside him. "I like it!"

She gave him a weak smile, void of any humour. "This is our mainframe computer. It stores and analyses all the data we put into it, sorting it out into what is useful to us."

The Doctor looked back to it with a thoughtful frown, his mouth open slightly. "Seems a bit small for this 'System'," he said wondrously, flexing his fingers either side of his head with the word. "I'd have thought you would go for something much more impressive – bigger than this, to say the least."

"This isn't the System's HQ," Raine explained sweetly, slightly amused by the eccentric alien. "This is the workings of the Literature Chamber. It scans the minds of those using the System as an activity, looking for outstanding or exceptional minds that would be useful to us."

"Oh, I see. Cream of the crop, then?"

"Somewhat."

The Doctor smiled rakishly, nudging her in the ribs. "Well, it's no wonder you picked me out, then!" The grin continued, although he knew full well that even unconscious, his mind would have set up its own defences to protect him from their scans. "Genius, me!"

"Actually, we brought you in because of the girl," Charlotte smirked amusedly. "Nothing out of the ordinary came up on your scans. It was only when we realised how much you meant to her that we decided to take a look. I must say, Doctor, I'm impressed with what we found."

The Doctor blinked, unsure as to whether he was flattered or insulted. But then something else dawned on him and his sixth sense (or seventh, or eight, or fifty-ninth... he was losing count these days) began to tingle in the back of his mind, warning him.

"What girl?" he asked abruptly, humour gone. He was hoping against hope that it wasn't who he thought it was.

Raine seemed taken aback at the darkness over his face. "The girl you brought in with you. Blonde twenty-year-old. Rose Tyler."

"I was afraid you might say that," he sighed wearily, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. When he looked back, there was determination written across his angular features. "What on Earth did you bring her here for?"

"Her mind capacity," Charlotte replied, and there was a slight element of awe in her voice. "Most humans' brain utilisation rests only at seventeen percent. Hers is up at about twenty-four, and still climbing. She, I think you'll fine, is the genius; not you."

If the Doctor had had a drink, it would have been about now that he would have spat it out of his mouth and choked in surprise. As it was, he could only widen his eyes and look completely dumbstruck.

"What?" he accused in disbelief.

"You heard me, Doctor. Rose Tyler, by scientific standards, is a genius. She has been more useful to us than most of the others we've brought in, combined. Including yourself."

"_What_?"

Raine almost laughed. "Obviously, you don't know her as well as you think you do."

"I know her better than anyone else in her entire life," he shot back almost bitterly, his eyes intensifying with anger. "And as brilliant, clever and wonderful as I think she is, believe me when I say she is no more a genius than Tweedle Dee. Your database is wrong."

"Our database is never wrong," Raine answered tersely, blue eyes flashing.

"Well, neither am I. And right now, I'd be willing to bet my life that I'm more trustworthy than your corrupted system."

Charlotte faltered a moment, her eyes widened. "What do you mean 'corrupted'?" she demanded, worry tainting her voice. "Doctor, what have you seen?"

He met her eye, mouth thin, cheeks high and face determined. "I'm not telling you a thing until you take me to her."

Raine hesitated. The Doctor gave her a pointed look.

"I can't," she offered eventually, and there was regret in her voice.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean you _can't_?"

"I don't have the authorisation to access her room."

"Then find someone who does!" he shouted, worry beating through his hearts. He wouldn't let Rose become another part of this elusive 'System', wouldn't let them invade her mind like that.

"You don't understand," Raine answered loudly, not appreciating being shouted at. "She isn't just a normal – "

"I don't have to understand! I just need to know she's safe, and she's only that when she's with me."

At the look on the Doctor's angry, worried face, compassion swept through Charlotte like an oar over water. She softened her gaze, and when she spoke, it was gentle and quiet, even sorrowful.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. There's nothing we can do."

"Sorry for what?" he spat, advancing on her. Some of the guards and workers around them had noticed the odd couple and were watching with interest; but the Doctor was far beyond caring. "Can't do anything about _what_? What's going on?"

Raine took in a breath before she continued. "Miss Tyler slipped from our control earlier this morning. Her consciousness sunk deeper into the System than we can reach and we can't wake her up. She won't respond to anything. She's in complete comatose. I'm sorry Doctor – we can't get her back."

The Doctor stared forward, his gaze cold and piercing. Teeth clenched, he glanced up and look Charlotte directly in the eye.

"Commander Raine," he snarled, his body shaking with anger, "I think you and I are going to have some problems."

* * *

**Author's Note**_: (1) I'll give a cookie to anyone who can phonetically spell this word. Yes, I did make it up, but it makes a certain type of sense in my head. It's some sort of disease, in case anyone was wondering ;)_

Next Chapter...

**_Chapter IX – To All, A Good Night_**

"_Wotcha," she croaked, her voice cracked like clay that had been out in the sun too long._

_Only the smallest hints of a smile passed over his face and he paused, right next to the bed, reaching a hand to her face. He deftly wiped the few tears from her cheeks, face quivering somewhat as he looked at her._

"_You're awake," he said softly, almost as though he couldn't believe it._

_Rose nodded against the pillow, then closed her eyes when he withdrew his hand._

"_I think so," she answered in a quiet voice._


	9. To All, A Good Night

**Author's Note**: Well, what can I say? A year an four months later, here is chapter IX. I was sitting around, writing a lot of my various other things, and I remembered all the people who have been following this story and deserve for it to be finished, or at least continued. I mean, I have a lot on my plate right now, so the ned update may not be for a long while. But I suddenly really missed this story, so I thought... why not work on it some more? Maybe, one day, in the years to come, I will actually get it finished.

* * *

**Chapter IX – To All, A Good Night**

She had known it was him before he'd even said anything. Part of her, deep down, had always known. However, it didn't make turning around and seeing him standing there – right _there,_ in the doorway – any easier to deal with. Rose wanted to laugh, and she did. She wanted to cry, and did that too. She wanted to shout, wanted to run, wanted to close her eyes and pretend it wasn't happening. She wanted to do all of these at the same time, and more.

As it turned out, what she ended up with were wide eyes, mouth agape, and a dusty lump in the back of her throat. He walked forward, oblivious, grinning that stupid grin like he hadn't died and left her all alone. She could only stare at him until he was just a few inches away, and even then blinking was an effort. She could hear him breathing, for crying out loud. Actually hear the breaths he was taking in, see them in the rise of his shoulders, feel it on her when he breathed out. It was nothing to what she could see.

Deep eyes, frozen ponds on a grey winter day. Cold and calculating, yet always so warm when they were on her. Strong nose, cheeks crafted with strength, mouth shaped from passion. And those ridiculous ears that probably broke some sort of law. He was there. Right there. Her Doctor.

And she couldn't say a word.

"You all right? You look as though you've seen a ghost." He reached up and tapped his knuckles against her head, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She broke. Tears streamed down her face as she flung her arms around him, burying her head in his neck. She could smell leather that she hadn't smelled in months, feel strong arms she thought she'd never feel again, taste tears that she had sworn she would never cry for him. He was here, in arm's reach, and she hugged herself against him as if letting go would mean never seeing him again.

The Doctor, unsurprisingly, was startled. He patted her awkwardly, peering down out of the corner of his eye to the top of her head. He could feel her shaking in his arms and stilled his hand, breathing out rather more loudly than he meant to. She withdrew in an embarrassed moment, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Sorry," she sniffed.

Rose kept her eyes firmly on the floor, fiddling with her hands and making every effort not to look to him.

"Don't be sorry," the Doctor told her, and took her shaking hand. She had to look up, because it was impossible not to. Even through a film of tears, he looked exactly like she remembered him, all needless worry and angry compassion. "What's happened? You and your Mum have a fight?"

"My... my Mum...?" she asked weakly after a hiccup.

The Doctor frowned. "Yes, your Mum. The woman you've just been staying with. You know: batty old woman who claims to be related to you and therefore has rights over your life. Personally, I can't see what the hell she's getting at, you're nothing like her. 'Cept when you're angry – you're a whole new woman when you're angry. Oi, what you smiling at? Have I got dandruff in my hair, or something?"

Rose shook her head, smiling through her tears. "I forgot how much you used to ramble in this version, too."

"Er – this... version?" he asked uncertainly, dropping her hand and putting his own to his chest. "What d'you mean 'this version'?"

"Regeneration," she explained with a brief wave of her hand. "It's sort of a way of cheating – "

"Yeah, I know what it is," the Doctor interrupted, brows ridged into a frown. He folded his arms. "But you don't. Or you shouldn't. What's going on?"

Rose took in a breath and swallowed, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes. "It's... complicated."

"Well then, you'd better start explaining," he said curtly, all humour gone.

At this, her head snapped up again, eyes fierce. "You know, you can be really mean when you want to be."

His tensed shoulders dropped, along with his face. Taking in a sigh, the Doctor unfolded his arms and shook his head, stepping backwards towards the controls. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be. It's just – " He met her gaze. "How can you know? I haven't told you about it, and I don't like to think you've been spying on me."

"No, I haven't."

"So answer the question," he countered gently, almost pleadingly.

Rose hesitated with bated breath. She shifted her footing, edging around the console to put it between her and the Doctor. Her mind kept flitting between decision to stare at him, and decision to do anything but. She settled, at last, with focusing on a monitor that showed him hovering in her peripheral vision. The way he held himself – hands tensed on the metal frame, face drawn, shoulders high – told her he felt the awkwardness in the air.

How could she just tell him? How could she stand to say that she was just 'passing through'? She didn't even have an explanation that made sense. How was he still alive? What happened to him? How long would she have with him? Questions bombarded her like the incessant trill of a hammer on a nail that won't go into a wall. Of all the things to talk about, when she'd wished she had this chance to speak to him again, she hardly wanted to be explaining what she was doing here. It barely made sense in her head. Jumping from realities... it was absurd, really. It didn't happen. Mind, anything could happen with the Doctor around.

"I'm sorta... from a parallel universe... I think," she offered at last, gaze flicking to the control she was running her hand over.

The Doctor straightened defensively. "Parallel universe? Well, that's a new one."

"You don't believe me," Rose said, sensing the tone in his voice and looking up.

He held her gaze. "No, I don't."

She could hardly blame him, she supposed. She wasn't even sure if _she_ believed it. It was purely because she couldn't see any other alternative that she kept pushing this theory, almost willing it to be true. The fact of the matter was that she didn't really know what was happening, why, or how to stop it. She didn't even know how to get things back to the way they were. Everything seemed to be centred on the Doctor, but where the connection came in, Rose couldn't quite see. All she had was her mind, a few confused memories, and a wayward explanation. She couldn't see the good any of it would do her without a Doctor who knew what was going on.

"Then what?" Rose laughed piteously. "You said it could happen. How else do you explain why I've been hopping between all the different version of you?"

"You've seen other regenerations?" the Doctor asked loudly, frown deepening. He blinked and looked away, shaking his head and starting to pace. "This doesn't make sense. I dropped you off in London – you weren't from a 'parallel universe' then, were you? How can you come back now and say all this? What's happened?"

This last question was spoken with worry and he moved towards her. Rose, on instinct, moved away.

"I'm – not – your – Rose," she told him, emphasising every word. His eyes locked on hers as he stood before her. He took her face in his hands, bending a little to level her eye line. His eyes roamed her face, inspecting her, checking her, looking over every curve and crevice. He looked into her eyes, over the bridge of her nose, of curve of her cheeks, the dip of her chin, the pout of he lips. Eventually, the Doctor pulled back, seemingly satisfied.

"You look like my Rose," he offered at last, voice stern. "Same age, and everything."

"Well I would, wouldn't I?" she asked, slightly jolted by his contact.

"No," he countered quickly. "Not if you were from a parallel. Parallels are different; they're different in the way they're built, in their DNA, in the way their minds work. You're just like mine – which means that you are." His eyes softened. "And it means that something's happened to you while you were visiting your Mum. Someone's fiddled with your brain, with your memories, put in certain pieces and taken out other ones. They've moulded you and changed you, must have. Made you believe things you didn't even know. And then they sent you back to me, all... different."

"I'm not your Rose," she repeated, for lack of anything else to say. Staring up into the calm peace of his eyes, she almost wanted to believe it. He put a hand on her elbow and squeezed gently, offering her a smile she hadn't seen in months. It would be so easy to believe him, to play pretend and stay here with the life they should have had. But then her mind flicked back to the Doctor he had become, the Doctor she had followed and become a part of: the Doctor she couldn't leave behind. "...You're not my Doctor."

He tilted his head, his entire face drawn back with worry. "I'm sorry you think that, Rose. I really am."

She tucked her arm in and turned away, reaching to brush the hair from her face. The Doctor watched her carefully.

"You won't even let me look at you?" he asked quietly. She didn't meet his eye. "You won't let me check you're all right? Won't let me fix you?"

"Doctor, listen to me," Rose told him sternly, shrugging away from him and wandering past the controls. "I'm not from your world, or your time. I haven't been abducted, by brain hasn't been fiddled with, or whatever. Seems I'm just passing through loads of... of different realities, I guess. The last three have been – well, the new you, I s'pose."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow as he watched her. "New me?" he asked sceptically, folding his arms. "And what happened in these 'alternate realities'?"

Rose sighed. "Well first you went sort of... creepy. Thought you wanted to kill me, actually." She laughed weakly, but when the Doctor showed no signs of being amused, she continued, circling the controls. "Then I thought I was back, but come to think of it, not so sure now. You seemed a bit off-colour. Then you disappeared into the middle of nowhere, so I don't know. And then... then a different you turned up and I – the other me for that... universe – had stayed with Mickey in an alternate Earth, so he was all alone. He was a bit off, too, actually. Kept changing his mood, like he couldn't decide who he was. Wouldn't have called him 'Doctor' – didn't feel like 'Doctor'. Then he said he'd help me and to wait in the control room, and so... here I am."

She dared to look up to the Doctor. He was frowning so hard, she could practically see his physical effort to try and work it all out.

"Sounds a bit weird, come to think of it," she added helpfully. He met her eye.

"Sounds a bit like you've fallen through some horrific sci-fi cliché, yeah," the Doctor agreed with a tight nod of his head. He stepped towards Rose slowly, his eyes on her like a predator. "You don't think it's just the smallest bit odd for all that to happen to you? I mean, parallels Rose: they're not easy to just 'fall' through, especially not now my people aren't around to instigate it. There isn't enough power in any one universe for that. I mean, the possibility of it happening _once_ is a stretch, let alone three or four times. Which means there's another explanation – don't you think?"

His gaze was unnerving and Rose found her mouth going slightly dry. "I dunno," she shrugged, looking away. "Maybe."

"Which means that you can trust me," he continued in a softer tone as he walked to stand next to her. "I don't know what's happened, but it's made you think you don't belong here. If I took a look at you in the infirmary, I could probably sort it all out. I mean, no offence, but parallel universes? My regeneration? Sounds a bit like wishful thinking, if you ask me." He said this last comment with a grin, nudging Rose's shoulder with his own.

She gave a laugh through her nose and turned to look up at him. He gave her a soft smile.

"He – He's not made up, though," Rose said, a little shakily.

"Who isn't?" the Doctor asked, leaning back against the control unit and in the same movement sliding closer to her.

"The other... the other you..." She frowned and looked away, shaking her head. She could picture the other Doctor in her mind, see him there grinning at her. But compared with the Doctor sitting next to her now, compared with the gentle aroma of his jacket or the look of his crystal eyes, or the feel of his shoulder against hers – was it really so tangible?

Then again, everything she had been through, everything she had felt – it couldn't just have been made up. The answer wasn't as simple as that. This Doctor, from this universe, must be wrong.

The trouble was, Rose wasn't sure which part of her to believe. She didn't even know what she _wanted_ to believe.

"Rose."

He said her name gently, in that tone she thought had died with him. She swallowed, but kept her gaze forward, part of her fearing that he wouldn't be there if she turned. Then she felt his hand, warming it by her side as he slipped his fingers through hers. She had to look then. She felt her breath tighten in her chest at the touch, firm yet gentle, between hers. She had never expected to feel those fingers take her hand again.

"Let me help you?" he pleaded quietly, eyes shining. "Let me try and sort this all out." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "You look shattered."

"I am shattered," she half laughed, leaning into his shoulder.

Her eyes drifted upwards and she met his – they were staring at her intensely, though he wasn't in the least bit menacing. The grip on her hand tightened.

"Come with me."

She couldn't tell if it was a question or a command. The next thing she knew, she was being led through the control room and down the corridor. Their footsteps echoed through the empty ship as they walked, a comforting noise compared to the silence that usually laced it. Not quite sure why, Rose began counting the doors they passed and tried to imagine what was behind them. None gave any clues so, using her imagination, she pictured a gym, a bathroom, a kitchen, a garden, a sitting room, a library – smaller than the main one – and a spare bedroom. By the time they reached the eighth door, Rose was just about wondering if he could have an entire mansion locked away in here when the Doctor pushed it open to reveal a clinical white Medical room.

He offered her a reassuring smile as he turned, walking into the room backwards with his eyes on her. He wordlessly walked them to one of the flat beds, then patted it invitingly. Rose looked uncertainly at it a moment or two, not quite sure what the Doctor meant to do with her.

"I'm going to run some tests," he explained, as if reading her mind. "Once you're asleep, your body will be at complete ease. I'll be able to watch and check your vital signs, then see what's wrong and how to fix it."

"It's the parallel thing, Doctor," she countered, her mind feeling as though it were growing cotton wool from the inside out. "It's got to be – it's just... it's got to be."

He looked at her tenderly. "Even if it is," he answered, though from his voice, Rose could tell he didn't believe it, "then I'll need to see what the problem is. It isn't normal, and we all want you back to how you should be. Besides, you know me. You trust me – I hope – so what's the problem?"

Shifting from one foot to the other, Rose broke her hand from his. In all honesty, the problem was that she felt like she was betraying her Doctor – the one, wherever he was right now, who she'd got used to, who'd taken her under his wing a second time and cared for her in a way she suspected he cared for little others. The one who had taken her amazing places, including breakfast out at Greece only that morning, and the one whose morning custom and greetings she had become fond of. Could that really have been so unreal?

"Yeah, all right," she sighed after a moment, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I want to know what's going as much as you do."

The Doctor nodded, evidently pleased, then waited while Rose hopped up onto the bed and lay down. Head turned towards him, she could already feel her eyes drooping. It hadn't been that long since she'd slept, surely?

The Doctor stood next to her, eyes focused.

"Close your eyes, Rose," he told her gently, resting his hand on the bed beside her. She did so. She felt the feather-light tickle of fingers and thumb on her temples as he stretched a hand over her closed lids. When he spoke, it sounded distant, as though he were calling to her from several hundred metres away. "I need you to sleep for me – think you can do that?"

"I do feel sort of tired," Rose replied through a thick yawn.

Not quite sure how, she knew the Doctor was smiling at her.

"Relax your mind," he instructed, patience and caring soft at the edges of his voice. "Relax everything inside you. All that strain, all that tension – just let it go."

The hand moved, but she was barely aware of it as his voice swirled around her, calm and gentle as leaves in an autumn wind.

"Everything that ever frightened you, everything you've ever doubted, just put it all away and come with me. Come with me where you'll be safe. Nothing to hurt you, nothing to trick you, nothing to make you feel any less of the magnificent person that you are."

His voice was faint now, not quite a whisper, but definitely gentle. Her autumn breeze had become just a breath of wind.

"When you count to three, you'll fall completely asleep, and everything will be as it should be. I'll be here, waiting for you. It's all in your hands now, Rose. Count for me."

She felt distant, cut off, like nothing mattered. Stars would burn, so would people, and it meant nothing. With a wave of a finger, she felt she could destroy life. Equally she could create. An entire universe could be made and burned out, and she would have merely taken a breath. There was a hold, somewhere on her, a connection to something. Something more. She wanted it.

_one_

"I'll be right here, Rose, waiting for you. All you have to do is let yourself dream."

_Two..._

"Count, Rose, and let go. I promise. I promise you everything. I promise you Gallifrey, if you'll just let go."

Three.

-I-

Rose was trapped in a world she knew she didn't belong in. It was empty, incomplete. She had her family – her whole family – and she had Mickey. She was even an older sister. Her Mum and Dad were finally together and Mickey was welcomed as if he were part of them. From the outside, it may have looked perfect. But she knew it wasn't. Everything was cold and lifeless, painted in the same shade of grey that she couldn't escape from. All the people on the street moved around her, solemn and silent in this scrap of a world. She had a job that paid well, she had friends who pretended to like her, and she had experienced years behind her that, for some reason, she knew no one else could match.

But there was something hollowed out within her, something that whenever she tried to think about it would hurt so much that she would cry. She didn't know what it was, what she wanted, except that it lay on the other side. The other side... what did that mean? Death? Dreams? Australia? None of those felt right. They just added to the bland wrongness that made up her life. The closest she got to feeling even a little bit normal was working for her father's business. Consequently, Rose often ended up spending late nights there working when she didn't really need to.

Whatever was missing, she felt close to it here.

She saw her life in the blink of a second. It passed her by, tasteless, like stale cornflakes from the bottom of the box. She missed opportunities that most would have died for. She never got married. She never built a family. She never stopped looking. And she never found... never found... the word wanted to form itself as 'him', but that couldn't be right. She had lots of men in her life, some of whom would have offered her great comfort and happiness. Yet somehow, if she kept herself miserable, perhaps the balance that had been taken from her would be given back.

The other side... him... Why couldn't she remember? Why, with those words together, did her heart race and a feeling of warmth spread through her? She began to change, began to think, began to see the world in colour. Something made sense. She had to hold on. She couldn't let go.

But then there was a scream.

And then there was nothing.

Rose opened her eyes and sat bolt right up in bed. A white gown fell around her and something painful ripped at her skin in her movement. Slightly dazed, she looked around. A monitor on her left was beeping rhythmically and she stared at it a moment. She felt uncertainly up her arm, felt patches stuck to her skin with wires attached. She gasped when she saw a long needled inserted into her hand, following a wire that led up to a bag on a large frame. It held colourless liquid trapped inside. Rose peered at it for a second or two, before feeling instantly dizzy and sick. She lay down on the clinical bed again, angling her head to look out of the door.

She knew where she was, if she had had the strength to think. The TARDIS Medical Lab. Well, at least that was something.

With a frown that threatened to break into tears, she tried to cling to her dream. It had been so empty, so dull, so close to breaking her heart – why would she dream that? Memories of it floated back to her, a tall man in a pinstriped suit and long trench coat. He had stupid hair, she thought when she pictured him in her mind. He called himself Doctor. But then... then she remembered the leather jacket, the cool eyes, the grinning face. Her heart relaxed a little. He was her Doctor, too. They couldn't both be her Doctor.

Rose thought hard. Colours swirled in her head like the remnants of an artist's pallet, vibrant and bold but not all together clear. The things she'd done, the places she'd been – they all seemed so distant now. All she could trust, Rose decided, was what she knew. The here and now. Everything else was just backlog from her mind and from her dream.

But what was here and now? Why was her head hurting? Why was she hooked up to units in the infirmary? What had happened to her? She didn't know. She didn't know what to trust or what to feel. And she only realised she was crying when the tears trickled to her temple and soaked the pillow she was lying on.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. It stilled and hovered there for a moment, as if moving would break the spell. Then he began to walk forwards, slowly, his face so gentle that Rose wondered if a broken heart was easy enough to show on a person's face.

"Wotcha," she croaked, her voice cracked like clay that had been out in the sun too long.

Only the smallest hints of a smile passed over his face and he paused, right next to the bed, reaching a hand to her face. He deftly wiped the few tears from her cheeks, face quivering somewhat as he looked at her.

"You're awake," he said softly, almost as though he couldn't believe it.

Rose nodded against the pillow, then closed her eyes when he withdrew his hand.

"I think so," she answered in a quiet voice. "Feel a bit... sick, though. What's – " She had to take an exhausted breath before continuing. "What's going on?"

His hands moved to rest beside her stomach.

"You've been out cold for days. You're lucky I found you, the state you were in – I don't know how you got away. Still, your cuts are all fixed up now, and the poison's worn off." He forced a smile. "Good as new."

"Poison?"

Rose, who could see through him like a sheet of glass to his guilt, moved to sit up. However, a hand on her shoulder kept her down.

"No, Rose. You need to keep your strength up."

He crouched down out of sight for a moment, re-emerging with a glass of water.

"Here."

She took the offered water and sipped at it, careful not to spill it. Holding it carefully to her chest, she looked at him again.

"What d'you mean poison?" she asked quietly, head feeling thick and needled. "What happened with the... the testing thing?" She took another sip of water. "About the parallels – what did you find?"

His face contorted into a frown so deep his brows almost met. A hand moved to her face again, cool against her skin.

"What about parallels?" he asked, meeting her gaze and searching her. "Parallel whats?"

Rose groaned and turned away from him to look at the ceiling. She really couldn't explain this again. She must have moved again, while she'd been asleep.

"I can't be bothered," she almost laughed, closing her eyes. She felt the heat of tears again, bitter and out of place. She wanted all of this over. She just wanted normality, she wanted what she knew, what she loved. She wanted her Doctor – whoever he was anymore.

There was a hand on hers, but she didn't open her eyes. It could be just another dream for all she knew.

She let out a wearied sigh and shook her head slightly. "All you need to know is that I'm not the Rose you know and that I'll be gone in not much time. So you may as well go do something else for a while, 'cause I'll be moving on soon."

"Poison must have addled your brain more than I thought," his voice muttered.

Rose's eyes snapped open. "Look," she almost spat, turning to him viciously. "I haven't had any 'poison'. I'm just... I'm here from somewhere else. I'm someone else, all right? You're not my Doctor, I'm not your Rose, so let's just leave it at that."

He raised an eyebrow. For a moment, Rose was convinced he had bought it. He turned and began to walk towards the door – only to pick up one of the chairs and bring it next to her on the bed, sitting in it and taking her hand in between both of his.

"Rose," he said gently. She refused to look at him, keeping her eyes to the ceiling. She couldn't bear having to go through this again, couldn't let him get close enough to hurt her when she left. Just like all the other times. She had to make it back to... to wherever it was that home was.

Home. The word beat around her head like a solitary drum in a music room. Home was where the heart was, they said. What if her heart was in more than one place?

"Rose, look at me." She couldn't ignore that soft tone in his voice no matter how strong she was. Autumn eyes met steely grey as their gazes passed each other. "I did some research on the poison you got injected with. It sends you into a coma-like state, where you're put into a dream world with all sorts of twists on the reality you're used to. It makes you want to – no, Rose, _look at me_." She had groaned again, turning away, but he squeezed her hand and pulled it gently. Reluctantly, her head fell back again to watch him. "It makes you want to believe your dreams," the Doctor continued. "It confuses you, plays on memories – even those you didn't know you had. It builds up a whole new world and keeps you there, until you find a way to break through. Or until you get the antidote, which I fantastically traced down and got for you."

He grinned, though it was weak. Rose didn't even have the energy to force a smile.

The Doctor nodded towards the water she was balancing on her chest still. "You'll want to keep your liquid intake up. Six days is enough for anyone to become dehydrated. You're lucky I've been able to keep you alive on a drip."

She blinked at the needle coming out of the hand holding the glass, followed it up to the bag. No wonder she felt so sick.

"I've got to get back to him," she told the Doctor sternly, eyes glistening with dry tears. "I've got to. He'll be all on his own."

The Doctor reached one of his fingers to trace a path around her hair, taking her hair with it. "He won't," he said gently. "Think about it hard now, Rose. Try and remember things about that place, wherever you were. I know it's hard. They'll all seem like a dream if you try. Come on, you know I'm telling the truth. You've got to." He edged closer to her in the chair, eyes intense. "Trust me, okay? Don't... don't go back there again. Don't leave."

She swallowed as the tears threatened to break. "I have to," she whispered. "I can't just leave him. I don't care what you say – he's real."

"But he's not real. He's just another part of you."

"He _is _real."

The Doctor let out a sigh and sank back into the chair, looking up to the ceiling and shaking his head.

"I love you, so much," he laughed bitterly. "You even fight to hold on to your dreams."

Rose stared at him. "You... you what?"

He moved his head to look at her again. "You don't need to act so surprised," he shrugged.

"Sorry," she mumbled, eyes flicking to the floor for a second. "'S just the first time you've said it."

His face gained a look that wasn't quite a frown, but hard and worried all the same. "Rose, I say it all the time. Every day," he said slowly, straightening in the chair. "Stop kidding around."

"Doctor, you've never said that to me," she said earnestly.

The Doctor's face fell. "Don't... don't tell me you don't remember?"

"Remember what?" she asked fearfully, feeling much like she had just forgotten one of the most important things in her life.

"Oh, Rose."

The Doctor bowed his head forward, resting his forehead to their clasped hands. After a moment or two, he stood, carefully taking the glass and helping Rose to her feet with him. He looked at her with sincerity.

"Don't you remember?" he asked again. Rose shook her head. "Not when I took your hand?" He did so. "Not when I said I'd almost lost you? Or how much I... How much of me would fall apart if ever I did?" She took in a staggered breath, the Doctor not helping with her fight to not cry. "What about when you told me you loved me? Remember that?" His voice was heart broken and Rose felt tears leak down her cheeks as she sniffed and shook her head reluctantly. The Doctor moved gently, cupping her cheek. "Don't you remember the way I held you close? Held you so tight, you accused me of trying to squash all the air out of you." He grinned shyly, but it faded within seconds. His hands tightened and he locked her gaze. "Don't you even remember when I kissed you?"

Rose hiccuped in return as she gazed up at him. Her held breath had almost become painful and she blinked slowly as her crying continued. This couldn't be real. It couldn't possibly be real. Her Doctor just wouldn't... he wouldn't tell her he loved her, even if it were true. He wouldn't tell her she meant more to him than worlds in the universe. He wouldn't kiss her.

Except, when he began to tilt his head towards her, she knew he would.

"Doctor," Rose said suddenly, turning her head from him. His lips grazed her cheek and she almost flinched. He dropped his hands from her like she'd bitten him and stepped backwards, almost tripping.

"I'm sorry. I thought it would help. Research told me what you're used to can help if there's memory problems from the poison."

She blushed, bringing her hand to wipe at her cheeks. Wires pulled at her arms, reminding her just how much of an invalid she had been. She glowered at the patches, as if she could make them jump off her body by sheer force of will.

Then, perhaps as a delayed reaction, the Doctor's words echoed around her head and she looked to him. He was standing with his back to her, hands on the surface that ran the circumference of the room. It was the same Medical Lab as with the other Doctor. Except... somehow that didn't feel quite right. He felt a little like a distant dream. She could remember him, for sure, but it was fragments of happenings she was picking up, like it had never really happened in the first place. If she really had been injected with poison that made her think things that weren't true... it would certainly excuse a lot of explanations he had simply glazed over.

"Where are we?" she asked. The Doctor turned and looked over his shoulder with an incredulous look.

"Don't tell me you don't recognise the TARDIS."

"Yeah, course," Rose countered quickly, not wanting to seem any more the fool than she already was. "I mean where... time-wise. Have we been to... to Satellite Five yet?"

He frowned and walked slowly over to her. For a second, their eyes met. Then he turned his attention to her arm, taking it in his hands and peeling off the wire attachments one at a time. It stung a little, but Rose listened as he replied.

"Yeah, ages ago. I hope that's not how far your memory's been wiped back – I'd have a hell of a time trying to get you to remember everything we've done since then. Hold still, this one's going to hurt."

He pulled gently at the needle in her hand and she winced with the searing pain. He looked up quickly when she tensed, sure he was hurting her. She nodded for him to continue so, with a hollowed look, he did.

"Sorry," he mumbled when the needle was out.

"'S all right," Rose shrugged, flexing her hand a much as she dared. "You were saying?"

"Well, plain and simple. How much do you remember?"

She paused, thinking at it from all angles. "Well, of you, I just remember waking up and you regenerating. The rest's all with the other you."

He gaped at her. "Me... you dreamed me regenerating? _That's_ who you've been hopping about in your world with?"

"I didn't... dream it..." she told him uncertainly.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't sound so sure about that. When you woke up, you said something about parallels – was that what this 'other me' was? You dreamed you'd gone through a parallel?"

"No," she answered firmly. "Just... just recently, I've been flying between all these different realities with all these different Doctors. Most of them were him, but the last one was you. And now... it's you... again." She frowned, wrinkling up her nose. The Doctor almost laughed at her look, but subdued himself.

"That's how you know the poison's breaking," he informed her after a moment's contemplative silence. "The world it builds up begins to falter and break up, like a dodgy signal on a television screen. The image flickers, sometimes between channels, then eventually gives way to static, just before you wake up. I don't know what the 'static' is – could be anything. Any realm of possibilities. Outside all the laws of physics. I'm surprised you even woke up at all."

Rose moved to lean against the bed and folded her arms over her chest.

"It can't be that."

The Doctor fingered the lining of his pockets idly. "Why not?"

"Because..." She trailed off a moment, looking over his shoulder while she thought. "There's too much up here," she reasoned at last, tapping her head. "I didn't just... make it up. I can't have."

"'Cause it's all so real, yeah?" he challenged in return, flinging his hands to his sides in defeat. "That's how it works, Rose – don't you see? I got you the antidote, but all the after effects you'll be left with until you fight against them. Either that or you'll disappear into your safe little world for the rest of your life. It makes you think it's real, and until you want to believe otherwise, you'll always doubt me. So I guess the question is how much you trust me, how much you want the life you used to have before this happened."

"But I can't _remember_," she replied through gritted teeth. The Doctor groaned and shifted to turn away from her, shaking his head. Rose looked to the ceiling and sighed. "I don't even know what to believe anymore."

He wheeled around and stepped towards her, taking her hands and holding them to his chest. "Believe _me_, Rose. I'm the one who's real, I'm the one who's sat by your bed for the last six days, hoping against hope that you'd be strong enough to wake up."

She blinked at him, somewhat touched. Then a thought struck her, and she frowned.

"Thought you said you'd got me the antidote?"

"It only works twenty percent of the time. Literal kill or cure."

Rose's mouth dropped a little and he squeezed her hands in comfort. "Ki– kill or cure?"

"Yup," the Doctor confirmed, nodding slowly.

"So... what? You would have just let me – "

"No."

"But you just said – "

"I would have found another way."

"Even with – "

"I told you, Rose, no. The universes themselves couldn't keep me apart from you."

She had to practically squint through her obstinate tears. Shaking her head and blinking them away, Rose found her mouth completely dry.

"I just want to be me again," she croaked, so quietly she wasn't even sure if she'd said it aloud. "And I want you to be you."

The Doctor nodded and bent his head to look her right in the eye. "I know. I know you do. And hey, listen to me – " Dropping her hands, he cupped her cheeks. She met his eye, tears dribbling down her cheeks, and he grinned at her like she'd just found the other Time Lords. It was all mischief and happiness, eyes alight an wide. " – I'm gonna help you. I extracted some of the minor toxins from the poison, mixed them with the antidote and added something a little special of my own. If you're fighting enough, it'll help to keep your dream traps at bay. If you want, that is." He hesitated a moment, breath bated. "Do you want my help, Rose? You ready to come back to the real world?"

A million thoughts careered into Rose at once like traffic on the M42. She tried to block the irrational ones out, tried to make sense of things. But all she knew were the hands around her face and the eyes in front of her, willing an answer. There was that grin, too, a grin she had resigned herself to the fact she would never see again. Yet there it was.

What had happened to her? She questioned what she had gone through with the other Doctor, the one the poison had made for her. There had always been some strange feeling towards him, some reservation that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Hadn't there? He may have called himself the same man, but compared to the leather-clad iron-faced Doctor in front of her now, he was as much a comparison to his old self as paint is to sawdust. So different – and especially recently, when the poison was to be wearing off: hadn't he been trying to convince her he was exactly what she needed?

Her head hurt by the end of it. Pushing all thoughts that weren't instinct out of her head, Rose did what she felt was right.

She looked her Doctor in the eye and nodded.

-I-

The serum tasted like salt water. Given the choice between it and the injection, Rose happily took the little sachet the Doctor handed her and emptied it into her mouth. It fizzed in her mouth, spreading the tang of its taste to every corner before sliding down her throat. She grimaced, asking the Doctor why all medicine tasted so horrible.

He just laughed and shook his head.

"Humans – never appreciate what's good for them."

It was strange, being shown around a TARDIS she had been in before. Her room was the same, everything was in the same place and it all seemed back to normal. They sat in the kitchen for a while, Rose nibbling at the edges of a piece of toast while the Doctor watched her as if he expected her to collapse any minute. He declined the offer of a cup of tea, which left her with a momentary twinge at the revelation that he didn't really drink it. Silence parted them for a minute or two as she stared into space, chewing thoughtfully like a cow on the cud. The same mouthful must have gone around her mouth at least five times before the Doctor asked her what she was thinking about.

She didn't answer, instead swallowing and taking another bite.

After the poor excuse for breakfast, she rather shakily headed back to her room to get changed properly. Re-emerging some several minutes later to the console room, the look on the Doctor's face was well worth the complimenting jeans and shapely t-shirt she had picked out. However, after the brief compliment he gave her, neither of them spoke. Instead they wandered, every now and then catching each other's eye then looking away quickly. The Doctor's first attempt at conversation failed rapidly when he turned mid-sentence to find that Rose wasn't even in the room.

Searching for her, he found her in one of the side rooms of the TARDIS. It was a fairly blank room itself, but there was a window in the far wall at which Rose was stood. His footsteps echoed around the quiet room as he came to stand next to her, gazing out onto a bitter winter beach. It was empty, and even the single tree growing between a collection of rocks had no leaves.

"You all right?" he asked, keeping his eyes forward.

Rose started a little, like she hadn't know he was there. "Yeah."

"You disappeared."

"Sorry," she shrugged. "Just needed to be on my own."

"Oh."

Taking the hint, he turned to the door. She put a hand out instinctively, touching his arm.

"I can be alone with you here."

He frowned sadly, letting his gaze wander over her. She looked almost peaceful. She'd tied her hair back off her face, leaving just a grey pallor that matched the sand of the beach. Her eyes, once so alive with depth and colour, just stared forward a dismal oak as she watched the roaring shore. He glanced to the beach again, shifting on his feet.

"Tide's coming in," the Doctor commented, but when she didn't answer, fell into silence beside her.

She half wished he would take her hand, pull her into him, lead her away to something that used to be her life. But he just stood there, oblivious. So she settled with watching a bright red bird flutter about in the crashing wind, fighting to keep on its path. It gave up eventually, turning with the gale and heading back the way it had come.

Rose sighed, shaking her head.

"Never stood a chance..."

From the corner of her eye, he saw the Doctor turn his head. "What didn't?"

She didn't answer right away, not quite sure what she could say. After a moment or two, just as the Doctor was about to give up and find something else to do, she looked to him with a piteous frown.

"He was such a change from you," she told him truthfully.

"You can't go thinking about him like – "

"Yeah, I know. It's just, it's weird. That's all."

He caught her eye a moment, studying her. "Was he – ?" the Doctor began, but bit it back, shook his head and gazed out of the window. Rose put her hand gently over his on the window sill, tilting her head to look up at him.

"Was he what?" she asked gently.

He took in a breath. "Was he like me at all?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "In a way, he was."

"Oh?" the Doctor asked, turning to her with a crooked smile. "What way was that, then? Handsome? Charming? Ludicrously funny?"

Rose snorted. "Same big head, I see," she grinned, ignoring his incredulous look. "But he had hair. Lots of hair."

He looked offended. "I have hair," the Doctor returned, reaching a hand to prove it. "See?"

"Well yeah, but his hair was mad. You could, sorta, reach up and..."

The gaze they shared intensified for just a moment, the Doctor's eyes reflecting the light from the window. Then they each broke away, looking elsewhere. Rose, whose hand had moved from his wrist, fiddled with the belt hole of her jeans. The Doctor stood still.

"He was still you, though," she said quietly after a minute or two.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He still cared. 'Bout all the planets and that, 'bout all the people on them. Never liked injustice."

The Doctor nodded tightly. "As he should. Nice to know that even the me in your head is still me on some level."

The quietness that haunted them next was only broken by the dim wash of water on the beach. It crept closer and closer towards the hill of dunes, but somehow never quite reached it.

Rose glanced to the Doctor once or twice. He was stood still, entranced by the scene. The waves threw images across his face, like they were watching a television screen rather than a window. His face was drawn back like someone was pulling at his edges, yet his mouth, nose and eyes stared forward, unmoving. He seemed both void of emotion and drowning in all different sorts. It was impossible to tell.

"You gonna look at me all day?" he asked presently, after she'd stared at him for at least thirty seconds.

She blushed and instantly looked away, curling her lips inwards a moment in embarrassment.

"Sorry."

The Doctor turned to her, grinning. "See something you like?" he teased, momentarily forgetting how much of a different woman he was used to.

Rose turned back to him, look equally flirtatious. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

They looked at each other for a moment, before Rose suddenly realised the Doctor had surreptitiously stopped smiling.

"He didn't treat you like this, did he?" he asked, holding her gaze in such a way that she would feel rude to break it.

"What do you mean?"

"The one in your head." He indicated with an eyebrow. "He was different. All talk and no action."

She had to fight very hard not to blush, taking a second or two to work out a response that wouldn't make her feel entirely stupid.

"He wasn't... really... anything," she answered weakly. "We just forgot, after a while. Or I think he did. He was almost the same, right after he'd regenerated. But then he fell asleep and woke up someone else. Even he didn't know who he was, so how the hell was I supposed to?"

The Doctor nodded. "I'm not judging you," he said quietly.

She swallowed. "I know."

Eyes on hers, he reached tentatively for her hand, brushing his thumb over her fingers. She let him, still amazed by how new it felt.

They didn't stay by the window much longer. Rose, feeling what little energy she had begin to wane, thought it was about time for another something to eat. The Doctor was all too keen to oblige, and she soon found herself sitting in front of a mug of hot tomato soup. She sipped at it and chuckled, to which he enquired why. He then proceeded to grumble and start fiddling with the settings on his sonic screwdriver, ignoring Rose's teasings about his inability to cook. She laughed after a moment, claiming that packet soup was much nicer than anything he could make anyway. At which point, she was thrown a dirty look before he went back to resonating the molecular structure of the front panel of wires in the console.

The Doctor worked while Rose sipped at her soup, and the two of them sat in companionable silence for most of her mug.

She drained the last dregs and wiped at her mouth, before sitting back into the sofa and gazing at the Doctor while he fiddled delicately with the wires.

He looked up. "Penny for them?"

Rose smiled, drumming her fingers on the mug. "I was just thinking about how weird it was, remembering stuff I haven't done."

The Doctor stood to his feet and pocketed the screwdriver, stretching his arms.

"How d'you mean?"

"Well, me and him, we did stuff. Saved the world and all that. Kinda weird to think that I've only just come back from Satellite Five."

He frowned, walking over to her slowly. "Rose, Satellite Five was months ago. Is that... is that all you remember? I mean, I know your memory's a bit off – that should come back – but it's quite a way to fall back."

"Well, unless you can tell me we hopped off to New Earth, cured an illness and met up with Cassandra again, that's about it."

The Doctor's mouth twitched into a smile as he gazed down at her. He sighed happily, then sat down next to her.

"You're such an ape," he grinned, turning to her on the sofa as he lay back into it. "More likely than not, the poison re-worked what it already knew into this other world. So, to answer you, yes, we went to New Earth, saved the victims and saw Cassandra again. Actually, if I remember rightly, it was her to thank for our..."

He trailed off, looking as though he'd said to much.

Rose, who could see he had just worked himself into a corner, smiled to herself. "Our what, Doctor?" she asked cheekily, knowing full well he didn't want to answer.

She also knew that he would ignore the question. Chuckling to herself, she gazed briefly to the ceiling.

"So you're telling me it was us who went to New Earth?"

"Yup."

"What about Queen Victoria?"

"Oh, yeah, she was a hell of a laugh. 'Sir Doctor of TARDIS'," he snorted. "I mean honestly, what sort of title is that?"

"It was the least she could do for us getting rid of her werewolf problem," Rose shrugged.

"I'm still shocked there was even a werewolf in Scotland, y'know. They're a pretty rare breed."

She grinned at him. "That's a point; I missed your Scottish accent."

He gave her an eyebrow-raised look, before attempting the dismal accent he had used at the Torchwood Estate. Rose caught his eye and they both burst into helpless giggles, each agreeing that he should never attempt anything remotely to do with Scotland again.

When the laughter had subsided, she looked to him playfully. "So, _Sir _Doctor," she teased. "What about Reinette? S'pose you loved getting frisky with her, yeah?"

If there was any laughter left hovering in the air, it died at her words. The Doctor looked at her with so much seriousness, Rose wished she hadn't said anything.

"What about Reinette?" he asked with a thick frown.

Rose coughed nervously. "Well, y'know. I just figured you two..."

The Doctor's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Don't tell me the idiot in your mind went off with her."

"Not... in so many words," she shrugged, glancing to the floor. "He just... I dunno. You jump through a mirror on a horse for someone else, it tends to mean something."

He straightened, and had to try very hard not to flex his hand. He couldn't, however, stop the accusation in his voice.

"He left you."

She shyly looked up and met his eyes. What he saw told him everything he needed to know.

The Doctor looked to the console and swore softly, shaking his head bitterly. Rose bit her lip as she watched him, wondering if there was something she should do to calm him down.

"That should have been your first clue," he almost snapped, looking back to her. "I'd have never left you like that. Never leave you anywhere, in fact. I'll be the first to admit she was an interesting woman – and she sure knew how to handle her men. But she's nothing compared to you."

Rose felt colour rising in her cheeks and she wondered just how to take the compliment. He may not even have been sure what he'd said. Then again, the hand that reached for hers told her otherwise.

"You trying to call me a French courtesan, Doctor?" she asked playfully, figuring humour always worked when they were in sticky situations.

His eyes twinkled. "That depends – you certainly seemed to picked up a couple of her skills."

"Doctor!" She took her hand from his, hitting him on the arm. He laughed wholeheartedly, grinning away like she had just announced the birth of his favourite star. "I don't care what you say," she smiled, watching him carefully after he had settled. "I'm not that sort of girl."

The Doctor smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? D'you want to see the bite marks?"

Eyes widened, Rose gaped at him a moment, not quite sure if he was joking. He was wearing that annoying expression where she just couldn't tell. Stumbling over a response, the Doctor just laughed again, shaking his head and patting her knee comfortingly. He lingered there a moment after the laughter had died away, looking at her with a soft expression.

"So..." Rose said, a little uncertainly. "How'd you sort out Reinette, then?"

He gave her a warm smile, before retracting his hand and standing.

"Oh, you know." He gave a modest shrug, then wandered over to a monitor on the side of the controls. He looked to Rose over the top of it while he worked at the wires by the side and continued. "Good old Ricky went on about a truck, or something. Wasn't really listening. Then you brought up that hologram thing, the thing I programmed into the TARDIS on Satellite Five." She noticed he avoided saying he'd sent her home. "So, there you go, it was that simple. Arthur the Horse gets sent back to his time with a jolly little hologram to go with him. We scared off the clockworks, made sure Reinette was safe through the only link that wasn't broken, said our farewells and off we went. Saved the day and home in time for tea. Piece of cake." The Doctor straightened for a moment, frowning to himself. "I s'pose it doesn't sound so impressive with the cliffnote's version. But you'll have to make do, I'm afraid – I'll not be the one to tell you all the finer details. That boy of yours probably will though. If you ask him."

Rose, who had been enjoying how he'd handled the situation up until now, blinked at him.

"My what?"

He looked up again, meeting her eye. "Mickey," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"He... he's not here, is he?" she asked, looking around herself as though she expected him to be hovering in the doorway or by the arm of the sofa.

There was a pause for a moment or two while the Doctor considered her.

"Rose, have you completely lost the plot?"

She looked back to find him trying to smother a laugh. "What?"

He rolled his eyes in mock disdain. "Honestly, feed that girl a bit of poison and she forgets everything she ever knew," he teased. "In case you haven't noticed, no, Mickey – isn't – here. He hopped off not long after he realised he wasn't welcome."

"You'd better not have been rude to him," Rose warned, glaring at him. "I swear Doctor, if he stayed behind in that parallel universe because you were mean to him, then I'm gonna – "

"What _is_ it with you an parallels?" he laughed, circling back around the controls and shaking his head laughingly. "You obsessed, or what? Ricky boy didn't stay behind in the parallel. He went back home with your dad. Thought Pete could do with a bit of a hand, he said, but I'd bet my TARDIS it was 'cause he didn't want to admit the better man won."

There was so much new information in his throwaway sentence that Rose took a few long seconds to figure out.

"My... Dad...?" she breathed eventually, giving the Doctor a look that said if he was joking, she might actually kill him.

He looked back with entire sincerity. "Yup. The one and only Peter Tyler. Well actually, _not_ the one and only. It'd be a bit odd if there was only – "

"Why'd he come back?" she cut across, eyes wide.

The Doctor sobered.

"Well, he was a bit miserable in his life. 'Specially with Jackie worse than dead. So he threw in the towel and we gave him a lift back home, back to your reality. Mickey left with him and they're all getting on like a house on fire. Bit awkward at first – no surprise there. But they're all settled in now, like it was never any different. Jackie's... er..." He paused, a momentary frown on his face. "Expecting," he settled.

"You're joking."

"No. I'm not."

Rose gave the floor a very hard stare, though she wasn't really focusing on it. Some shard of cut memory flickered into her mind for a moment, but it was gone before she could latch onto it. When she looked up some several minutes later, the Doctor was still watching her.

"You all right?"

"Yeah," she answered quickly with a tight nod and wide eyes. "Yeah, it's just... uh..." She ran her tongue around her mouth, which was suddenly stale from lack of words. "I don't know what to say," she laughed almost bitterly.

"Know what you mean. I think that was the reaction all 'round. I mean, they were happy, but it's a bit of a shock, even for me. Nine hundred years old, and I've never seen it happen before. It's almost sweet, actually; like they were destined to be together."

Rose looked at the Doctor through a frown of disbelief.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

The corner of her mouth tipped into a smile. "Nothing," she grinned, reaching to scratch just behind her ear. "I just never had you down for the 'destiny' type, 's all."

He held her gaze a moment, then shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. "I've changed."

"I noticed."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, uncertainty hanging in the air like a single, black cloud in a summer sky, and just as undesirable. The Doctor cleared his throat and glanced to the door.

"D'you want to see them?" he asked casually.

"You mean... go... out there? Back to London?"

He looked back to her. "Depends," he shrugged. "If you want. Or I could hook up the TARDIS monitors, and you could watched them on the screen." He tapped, to indicate. "You up for a big visit?"

Rose hesitated. Going somewhere that felt as much like home as the deserts of Africa seemed a rather daunting idea. Everything was so safe, sitting quietly here in the TARDIS. She thought about leaving and was instantly was struck with a strange queasy feeling in her stomach. She sighed.

"I think I wanna stay here. For the moment," she answered at last. "Don't really think I'm up to big visits right now. Just seeing them will be enough."

"Okay," the Doctor nodded. "Besides, you might change your mind once you see them. Depending on how good your memory is, we might pop in for a minute or two."

She smiled at him, then put on her poshest voice. "You mean pay the family a visit."

The Doctor laughed, then grinned like he was wielding an axe. "Oh, it's so fantastic to have you back. Gimme a mo, and then we'll see what they're up to."

He pulled at levers and keyboards, darting around the console to fiddle with various settings as he did so. Rose smiled as she watched him. He was not usually so excitable – or he hadn't been in his later regeneration. This was like a whole new side. He looked up and caught her eye, grinning away madly. Then, picking a screen, he hit a switch and an image flickered into view.


End file.
